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Prepare Lucifer volume V: proofread journal texts, author cards, illustrations and linked contents.
(Prepare Lucifer volume IV: proofread journal texts, author cards, illustrations and linked contents.)
(Prepare Lucifer volume V: proofread journal texts, author cards, illustrations and linked contents.)
 
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|original title=The Talking Image of Urur
|original title=The Talking Image of Urur
|origin=English: Franz Hartmann, ''The Talking Image of Urur''
|origin=English: Franz Hartmann, ''The Talking Image of Urur''
  | read links = [[Lucifer/Vol3/Text|Electronic journal edition in Teopedia]]; [[Lucifer/Vol4/Text|Electronic journal edition in Teopedia]]
  | read links = [[Lucifer/Vol3/Text|Electronic journal edition in Teopedia]]; [[Lucifer/Vol4/Text|Electronic journal edition in Teopedia]]; [[Lucifer/Vol5/Text|Electronic journal edition in Teopedia]]
|title=The Talking Image of Urur
|title=The Talking Image of Urur
|author=Hartmann, Franz
|author=Hartmann, Franz
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|ctd rus=Гартман Ф. - Говорящий идол Урура
|ctd rus=Гартман Ф. - Говорящий идол Урура
  | note = Printed credit: By <span style="font-variant:small-caps">Dr. Franz Hartmann.</span><ref name="v3-p292-n1">Author of “Magic, White and Black,” “Paracelsus,” “Jehoshua,” etc., etc.</ref>
  | note = Printed credit: By <span style="font-variant:small-caps">Dr. Franz Hartmann.</span><ref name="v3-p292-n1">Author of “Magic, White and Black,” “Paracelsus,” “Jehoshua,” etc., etc.</ref>
  | publications = [[Lucifer/Vol3|''Lucifer'', vol. 3]], no. 16, December 1888, pp. 292-300; no. 17, January 1889, pp. 365-371; no. 18, February 1889, pp. 457-471; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 19, March 1889, pp. 53-69; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 20, April 1889, pp. 155-162; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 21, May 1889, pp. 205-222; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 22, June 1889, pp. 296-313; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 23, July 1889, pp. 395-403; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 24, August 1889, pp. 478-485
  | publications = [[Lucifer/Vol3|''Lucifer'', vol. 3]], no. 16, December 1888, pp. 292-300; no. 17, January 1889, pp. 365-371; no. 18, February 1889, pp. 457-471; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 19, March 1889, pp. 53-69; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 20, April 1889, pp. 155-162; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 21, May 1889, pp. 205-222; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 22, June 1889, pp. 296-313; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 23, July 1889, pp. 395-403; [[Lucifer/Vol4|''Lucifer'', vol. 4]], no. 24, August 1889, pp. 478-485; [[Lucifer/Vol5|''Lucifer'', vol. 5]], no. 25, September 1889, pp. 34-40; [[Lucifer/Vol5|''Lucifer'', vol. 5]], no. 26, October 1889, pp. 135-144; [[Lucifer/Vol5|''Lucifer'', vol. 5]], no. 27, November 1889, pp. 239-248; [[Lucifer/Vol5|''Lucifer'', vol. 5]], no. 28, December 1889, pp. 329-339; [[Lucifer/Vol5|''Lucifer'', vol. 5]], no. 29, January 1890, pp. 419-425; [[Lucifer/Vol5|''Lucifer'', vol. 5]], no. 30, February 1890, pp. 491-498
  | download links =  
  | download links = {{tw|Text/English/Periodicals/Lucifer/|Original journal scans (PDF)|}}
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He cared no longer about the Mysterious Brotherhood, nor about the three Wings of the East, and he was even heard to utter the blasphemy, that it would be safer to put one’s faith in the truth itself, than in the assertions of Krashibashi or Rataraborumatchi or any other Adept, whether he existed or not. By expressing such views he made himself many enemies among the members of the Society for the Distribution of Wisdom. He finally resolved to return to his home.
He cared no longer about the Mysterious Brotherhood, nor about the three Wings of the East, and he was even heard to utter the blasphemy, that it would be safer to put one’s faith in the truth itself, than in the assertions of Krashibashi or Rataraborumatchi or any other Adept, whether he existed or not. By expressing such views he made himself many enemies among the members of the Society for the Distribution of Wisdom. He finally resolved to return to his home.


<center>''(To be continued.)''</center>
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=34}}
 
<center>CHAPTER XIV.</center>
 
<center>DISCOVERIES.</center>
 
On the evening preceding the day of his departure from Africa, Pancho took once more his accustomed walk to the seashore. Again the moonlight played with the frolicking waves and the stars shone in tranquil glory in the sky, quietly and indifferently, as if they knew nothing about blasted hopes and destroyed illusions. They dotted the ethereal dome that covers all nature, filling the air with a soft effulgence of light, causing it to appear as if all this ethereal realm were one grand and universal temple of the Holy Spirit, containing all beings without exception and lovingly embracing them all in spite of their follies, vices and miseries.
 
It was a night fit for meditation; a breath of peace, invisible, spiritual but nevertheless substantial seemed to pervade the breeze that came from the ocean, and a spirit of happiness seemed to linger around the shadows of the trees; while Pancho, by means of some undefinable inner sense felt or believed himself to feel that all this glory in nature was not dead, but living; that a consciousness of some kind filled all space and it even appeared to him as if he could see ethereal forms of great beauty moving through the shadows and lingering in the light, looking at him and smiling at the inferiority of his material senses, which enabled him to perceive only that which is of a gross and sensual character.
 
The stories which he had read in the Book of Mystery passed in review before his mind. True, they were childish and silly; but they seemed after all to contain certain truths. “What,” asked Pancho himself, “if Spirit were actually something substantial and real, in spite of our incapacity to see it with our material eyes? Is not love something invisible and nevertheless we can feel it; not with our fingers but within the soul. But where can we find the true nature of spirit? Alas where can we find real Truth? I have in vain sought for it in our churches and schools and at the feet of the Hierophant. I have heard it described in various ways and still I know nothing about it. Where can I find the power to perceive it myself?”
 
Pancho stood still, looking out upon the moonlit waters, seeking for an answer to his question. Suddenly the sky became illuminated with a bluish light, a meteor flashed in the sky and descended into the ocean where it was extinguished in the waves, and then the thought struck Pancho that the light of wisdom might descend in a similar manner within the soul and be extinguished in the carnal mind. It was a new idea to him; but on considering it he found that it was unscientific and not supported by any recognised authority. He dismissed it as deserving no further attention.
 
He continued his way. The road led along the beach between clusters of cocoanut palms, swinging creepers and vines. Pancho listened to the sound of {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=35}}the waves as they rolled over the sandy shore and returned again into the bosom of the deep when they perceived that the earth was not their appropriate element. This reminded him of the days of old when he walked along the beach with his beloved Conchita, but now Conchita was dead. Perhaps her spirit was near. He often thought that he could feel its presence, although he had seen no more her ethereal form nor had she spoken to him since that memorable night when he and Mr. Green practised ''yoga.''
 
Suddenly Pancho stopped, for he heard the sound of a voice. It was a sweet female voice, singing in tones clear and strong an Italian song. The song was suggestive of the power of love and the longing of the soul for the unknown. The words translated into bad English might perhaps be rendered as follows:
 
{{Style P-Poem|poem=“Star of the evening! Can you not tell
  Where my sweet darling, my lover doth dwell?
    Why does he linger away from his bride?
    Why does he not hasten to come to my side?
  Queen of the sky! O bid him to come
  To his beloved, his sweetheart, his home.
    Send him a ray of your glorious light;
    Tell him to come in the hush of the night.”
 
“Murmuring billows, softly and sweet,
  Tell me when I my dear lover shall meet.
    Roll to his feet and sing him a song;
    Ask him, I pray, not to tarry so long.
  Speak to him sweetly, lull him to sleep;
  Kiss him for me, O you waves of the deep!
    Whisper to him a message of love;
    Greet him you earth and you starlight above.”
 
“Ah! now I hear what the wavelets say;
  ‘Your own dear lover is not far away.
    Deep in your heart is his dwelling of bliss;
    He cannot leave it, earth’s daughter to kiss.
  There he is sleeping, dreaming a dream
  Of the gentle young bride that is coming to him.
    There you must seek him; there you will find
    Your dearly beloved, your – ’”}}
 
“Ma-a-a-ry!” sounded a shrill voice from the interior of the building; “didn’t I tell you not to stand out in the night air and catch cold? Come in, quick!”
 
The song suddenly stopped and as Pancho emerged from the grove of trees where he had been listening, he just caught a glance at the singer before she disappeared from the balcony. She was a young girl; her hands were folded and her long dark hair fell over her shoulders. If he had not been convinced that Conchita was dead, he actually might have believed that this was herself.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=36}}
 
“What does this mean?” thought Pancho. “What kind of a lover would that be, whom one could expect to find within one’s self? What an absurd idea!” Nevertheless some internal feeling, some intelligence within the soul, such as has not yet been classified or recognised by science seemed to tell him that if a person only knew all the spiritual treasures within one’s own self, he would have no desire to seek for their imperfect semblances on the external plane. But again Pancho rejected this thought on account of its being unscientific and not supported by well-known facts.
 
“Can there be a higher consciousness than that of the mind?” he asked himself. He remembered that there are things which at certain times may be recognized, although the reasoning mind can form no conception of what they are. Beauty, Love, Truth, Justice, Majesty; all these are things which must be existing, else they could not be recognized by something which men call “the soul;” nevertheless they are invisible and intangible and the reasoning mind can form no conception of them. “What is music?” he said.
 
“According to science it is air in a certain state of vibration, producing a succession of sounds; but what is the harmony that distinguishes music from noise? A noise acts upon the emotions” – he knew that very well, for more than once it had happened that he could hardly restrain himself from flinging a boot jack at the organ grinder at his door – “but in music there is language and thought, although it would be difficult for one who knows nothing about the language of music, to translate the separate sounds into words. Can anyone recognise harmony in the universe, if he has no harmony in his soul? What then is this harmony which exists within oneself? Is it a spiritual power, such as the Alchemists use, and if so, how can there be a power unless there is a substance? Is it merely a state of the material atoms which compose the physical body? Are wisdom, love and intelligence, justice and truth states of polarity of what we call ‘matter’ without any addition of something higher? If so Captain Bumpkins is right and all men may be magnetized into virtue.”
 
This method of reasoning might have satisfied Pancho’s mind; but it did not satisfy his heart and the heart persuaded the mind to continue the investigation. “Is then,” said the mind, “harmony not superior to disharmony, and how can anyone raise himself into a higher state, unless there is a higher power in him, to enable him to do so? How can anyone give to himself a thing which he does not possess? We know that man has the power to render his mind harmonious and to control his will and emotions. If so, there must be something in man superior to the mind and superior to the emotions. What, if it were in the power of mortal man to become conscious of the nature of that divine power and to know what it is?”
 
It seemed to Pancho as if he had made an important discovery. It was a new thought to him and he received it in his heart; and as he did so, a new field of consciousness seemed to spread out before his interior perception, joy filled his heart and all the intellectual powers in his mind seemed to join in one grand anthem of jubilee, such as may have been sung when the Saviour entered Jerusalem riding upon a heretofore untrained ass; a feeling of happiness such as he had not experienced before, pervaded his soul and a flash like that of the meteor illuminated his mind; but immediately Doubt, the destroyer, appeared; he began to reason and persuaded himself that all this was merely the effect of {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=37}}a morbid imagination, a product of the association of previously received ideas, unauthorised by science and not sufficiently proven by well established facts.
 
The Italian song to which Pancho had listened awakened in him a desire to go to Italy. Not without some regret did he take leave of his friends at Urur. Mr. Green bore the separation with stoical fortitude, Mrs. Honeycomb wiped an unborn tear from her eye. As to the Hierophant, he had not yet returned from his search after the subterranean hole, leading to Kakadumbola, the city of the Adepts.
 
We will not worry the reader by describing the voyage to Italy. Nothing remarkable occurred on this occasion, except that Pancho received his first lesson in occultism through the guruship of a monkey. It happened in the following manner:
 
There were two large-sized apes on board, a male and a female, belonging to the species Ourang-outang. They were quite tame, and allowed the liberty of the deck. They were very fond of each other, and played together all day, to the amusement of the passengers and the crew. One day, however, the male monkey fell sick, and refused to play, and then the female monkey seemed to be in terrible distress. All her efforts to cheer her mate were in vain, the male monkey grew worse and died. His body was thrown overboard. Then the female ape exhibited human emotions. She looked the very picture of grief, and would surely have wept if shedding tears were in the power of monkeys. She refused to eat, and three days afterwards she likewise died, and her body followed that of her mate into the watery grave.
 
All the passengers felt sorry for the poor animal; but Pancho asked himself: “What, if monkeys have the same emotions as men, and if they have, likewise, the power to reason; what, then, is the difference between a man and an ape, except in degree of intelligence, and in the form of his organization? If there is nothing else save thought and emotion in the bodies of men and of monkeys, and if these things are immortal, then surely a monkey is just as immortal as a man. If the animal consciousness of a man survives after the death of his body, the consciousness of a monkey must likewise survive.” Then the solution of the question came to him in some way, such as has not yet been explained by science, and, incredible as it may appear to the sceptic, he saw clearly, and was convinced beyond the possibility of a doubt that there was a power superior to the mind, and superior to the emotions; the same in men and in monkeys, and capable of producing emotions and thoughts; but that this power in an average monkey was not as highly and intelligently active as it is in average men. In making this discovery, Pancho knew he had found the way to the solution of the mystery of the divine knowledge of self. It was now clear to him that there is one eternal and universal power, manifesting itself in perishing forms in various ways, according to the conditions which these forms represent, and that while these forms, with all their thoughts and emotions, are passing away, the power which produces them continues to be, as is proved by the fact that it continues to bring new forms into existence.
 
“What if this divine power could become self-conscious in man? If man could unite his consciousness with the power that moves the universe? Would not this be the true Yoga, and the fabled union with God. It was thinkable that such a state could exist, but surely it could not be attained by magnetizing {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=38}}or hypnotizing oneself, nor by breathing through one nostril and then through the other, nor by feeding on asses’-milk, nor by swallowing a ribbon for the purpose of purification. It surely could be produced by nothing less than by the awakening of the divine consciousness within the secret regions of the soul. He was now sure that God was immortal, and surely the soul could only become immortal through God.”
 
Pancho arrived at Naples. He wandered through the silent streets of ancient Pompeii and the sight of these remnants of the glory of former days awakened in him thoughts about the impermanency of forms. “Where,” he asked himself, “are now the gay ladies and gentlemen that thronged these streets and enjoyed the sights of the arena? Their bodies have vanished into dust, their thoughts have faded away, their emotions are for ever at rest; but the spirit that deposited within their forms the germs of life and love and intelligence cannot have perished, for there are other men and women who did not exist in the days of Pompeii. This spirit must be something substantial, else it could not act upon substance, it must be superior to thought, else it could not produce thoughts; it must be superior to all the highest attributes of matter which we know, else it could not produce these attributes in the forms which it calls into existence. It is invisible to us and yet it appears to us in thousands of various forms, and, while the forms which it produces disappear, it seems to remain for ever the same, unchangeable, self-existent and independent of any other conditions except those that exist within its own self.”
 
Thus Pancho loved to take aerial flights into the higher regions of thought, but something happened to draw his attention again to the world of illusions. One day, while reading the ''Giornale di Roma,'' the following article attracted his attention:
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=“If in these days of modern enlightenment we dare to present to our readers an account of certain mysterious occurrences, said to have taken place in the vicinity of this city, we feel it our duty to preface our statements with the remark that the fullest right to believe them or not must be reserved to the reader. Our tale is so wonderful that we would not have dared to bring it before the public, if we had not received our information from a number of highly respectable eye-witnesses, whose veracity, sanity of mind, honesty and intelligence cannot be doubted.
 
“It appears that not long ago a well-known artist, whose residence is in one of the suburbs of Rome and whom we will call Michaele, made the acquaintance of some sailors that had just arrived from Africa. They had brought with them a very curious thing, such as has never before been seen in this country. It was a statue representing a woman. The figure was of life size and of beautiful workmanship, but what seemed to be most remarkable about it was that it was fitted out with some very ingeniously constructed mechanism, which enabled it to speak like a living person. Whenever a crank was turned,<ref name="v5-p38-n1">This was an editorial mistake.</ref> it gave answers to questions; but these answers were not after one pattern, like those of a parrot, but varied and intelligent like those of a being capable of reasoning.
 
“Michaele was delighted with his discovery, and bought the Image for a comparatively small sum. He put it up in his studio and showed it to his friends;|data=“''An Unexplained Mystery.''}}
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=39}}
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=but soon the trouble began. The statue told Michaele what his visitors thought about him, and to the latter it said what he thought about them and the artist had to fight several duels, in some of which he was wounded. This was, however, not the worst. Michaele had painted a large tableau, his masterpiece, of which he was very proud and which he desired to sell. It represented the temple of Fame, and in the centre was the goddess standing upon a cloud and distributing diplomas to all the celebrated persons that ever existed in the world. These were standing around in appropriate groups, waiting to be diplomatized. There were Socrates, Plato and Pythagoras in long white gowns, talking with General Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Benjamin Franklin, dressed according to the costume of their times, while Napoleon Bonaparte in high boots and spurs was standing near with arms akimbo, listening to their conversation. He was accompanied by Madame Pompadour, Joan of Arc, and Hypatia. In another group were Christ, Moses and Mohammed waiting for their diplomas; Beethoven and Mozart, each of them holding a little toy organ in his hand, while Fulton with a miniature locomotive, and Saint Laurence with the gridiron upon which he was roasted, were watching another group, composed of Sappho, Semiramis, Cleopatra and Messalina, who seemed to be flirting with Bismarck and Garibaldi. Raphael and Michael Angelo had brought their brushes and tools, ready to do a job, and were looking at Noah with a model of the ark in his hands, who was talking with Nero, Caligula and Julius Cæsar; while at a distance were Adam and Eve in their strictly historical costume, gathering apples seemingly to the great amusement of Pope Alexander, Richard Wagner and Nebuchadnezzar, who were attentively watching them. There were Dante, Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller, Columbus, Thomas Paine, Robert Ingersoll, Don Quixote and many other historical persons, whom space forbids us to mention. Michaele prized the picture very highly.
 
“One day a Russian gentleman came and offered a considerable sum for this picture. Michaele, however, asked for more, and at last they agreed to let the statue decide how much the picture was worth. They asked the statue about it, and it answered:
 
“‘The whole idea represented by that picture is so absurd, that no reasonable person would give a penny for it. He who works for fame works for nothing. Diplomas are playthings for unripe minds, useless for anything except to tickle the vanity of the selfish. Those who love the truth for its own sake ask for no other reward. Those who are in possession of wisdom need no external sign to prove that they are wise. Beauty does not require certificates to show that it is beautiful; but the fool needs a mask so that those who might meet him may be deceived.’
 
“After hearing this speech, the Russian refused to buy the picture at any price and went away.
 
“Michaele became very angry and came very near destroying the statue in his rage; but he finally resolved to sell it to one of his friends whose name was Antonio and who kept a tavern at T . . . a place visited by many strangers. Antonio showed it to his guests who were at first very much amused with it. Especially his wife was very pleased and offered many questions which were all answered by the statue. Among other things she asked: ‘Tell me, statue, who loves me best?’ and the statue answered: ‘Signor Giulio; and you know}}
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=25|p=40}}
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=it well enough, for you have his love letters hidden away in a pot on the top shelf in the kitchen.’ The husband became nearly frantic. He went to the kitchen and found the letters of Signor Giulio, who is a lieutenant of the Carabinieri. A row was the result, and it is still doubtful how it will end.”}}
 
“This can be none else but the Talking Image,” exclaimed Pancho after reading the article. He was now certain that some invisible power had guided his steps to Italy, so that he might recover it. He hunted up the editor of the ''Giornale di Roma'' and asked him to divulge the address of Antonio. This the editor peremptorily refused to do, adding moreover that Antonio had sold the statue and threatened to kill the first man who mentioned that subject to him. It had created – he said – a good many more troubles besides the one with his wife. It had caused a great many quarrels among his guests, who at first enjoyed the fun; but as it told them plainly what they thought about each other, they became very angry and one after another left the hotel in a fury. The matter soon became known and crowds of people came to ask questions. Those who received answers became angry because it told them the truth; those who did not receive any answer said it was a swindle devised by Antonio. The clergy heard of it and said as usual that it was the work of the devil. The Capucines came to exorcise the statue; but did not improve the state of things. They then excommunicated Antonio and nearly ruined his trade. Had he not removed the statue in time, he would have been either killed or would have had to leave the town. It is said that he succeeded in selling it to a German professor. It cost him a great deal of money to become reconciled with the church and to hush up the matter.
 
Such was the account which Pancho received from the editor, but all his attempts to find out the name and address of that German professor were unsuccessful. The professor was evidently only a traveller in Italy and had probably returned home.
 
The disappearance of the Image had not only caused a public excitement in Africa, but the newspapers in Europe also took notice of it and gave many garbled accounts of it, not one of which was correct. Thus one of the leading Italian journals contained the following article, translated from a London paper:
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=“Information has been received from Africa that a Buddhist temple at Urur has been robbed of one of its most valuable relics, the statue of a goddess. It appears that a European by the name of” – (here Pancho’s name was given in full) – “took up his residence in the vicinity of the temple and entering the Shrine without being observed carried away the idol, said to be of inestimable value, it being made up of one single block of amethyst set with rubies and diamonds. It is reported that he made his escape on a steamer going to Naples. Detectives are on his track.”|data=“''A daring robbery in a Buddhist temple.''}}
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=135}}
 
When Pancho read this account, he smiled at the ludicrous idea of being accused of carrying away a statue of the weight of the Talking Image.
 
“Nevertheless,” he said to himself, “it will be best not to mention my real name to anybody, as it might cause me annoyance.”
 
An invisible power seemed to attract Pancho to Venice. Was it the recollection of pictures which he had seen of the City of the Lagunes with its moonlit quays, of gondolas, its historical palaces and prisons that attracted him there; or was it some invisible hand that guided his steps? Pancho went to Venice and took rooms in a hotel. When the inn-keeper came with the register and asked him to enter his name, he wrote down the first name that entered his mind.
 
“Ah!” said the landlord, reading it. “Mr. Krashibashi! I see you are a Hungarian. There is another Hungarian gentleman at the hotel. Perhaps you would like to be introduced to him.”
 
“I wish to remain incognito,” answered Pancho, “and I have been away from Hungary so long that I have forgotten the language.”
 
He made up his mind to remain at Venice. He visited all the remarkable places of the city and among others the Church of San Marco. It was a quiet place, fit for meditation, and what he admired there most was “the tomb,” with the dying lion, sculptured by Canova. “Verily!” he thought, “here is a Talking Image, accessible to everyone and speaking to everybody who understands its unuttered language. Its silence expresses more than can be expressed in words.”
 
His frequent visits to the church of San Marco attracted the attention of a Catholic priest. This priest was a man of venerable aspect and unusual intelligence and of far greater tolerance than is usually found among the clergy. He approached Pancho and made his acquaintance.
 
“This tomb,” said the priest, “is a wonderful piece of art and very suggestive of the immortality of the soul”
 
“It is suggestive,” answered Pancho, “but it gives no positive proof of it.”
 
“Such a proof,” said the monk, “is unnecessary to those who believe.”
 
“But there are thousands of well-meaning people who are unable to believe on faith,” said Pancho. “To believe in a thing does not create it. A man may believe in his immortality all his life and nevertheless find himself swallowed up by death. What I want is proof positive of the soul’s immortality, such intellectual proof that nobody can dispute. Let such proof be given and there will be a universal revival of religion.”
 
“Does not the Bible give numerous historical evidences that there is a life after death?” asked the priest. “Was not Christ resurrected from his tomb?”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=136}}
 
“Excuse me,” said Pancho; “but what guarantee can you give that the Bible stories are true, that the marvellous things of which they speak have happened, that the Bible is divinely inspired, or that these tales are not to be taken in an allegorical sense? Please do not answer me in the usual phrases; that it is our duty to believe if we do not understand, and so forth. I have myself studied theology and I know the customary answers. Tell me something new.”
 
“My dear sir,” answered the priest, “to confess to you the truth, the church has no positive proof of the soul’s immortality; because religion is not a science. The church takes that immortality for granted and as a matter of course, as it is taught in the Bible. To learn the mysteries of the Deity would make it necessary that one should be in possession of the Holy Ghost and be able to write a new Bible.”
 
“But what proof have you that there is such a thing as a Holy Ghost?” asked Pancho.
 
“None other,” answered the priest, “but the doctrines of the authorities in which we believe. We live in accordance with the directions given by our books. If their statements are true, we will go to heaven; if they are wrong, so much the worse for us.”
 
“It often seems to me,” said Pancho, “that for everything that exists, there must be a sense by which that thing can be perceived. Is it not thinkable that there is an undeveloped sense in man, which might be developed so that he could perceive the presence of the Holy Ghost?”
 
“I have heard of such cases in the lives of the saints,” said the monk. “It is said that some of them saw the heavens opened and that the Holy Ghost descended upon them in the form of a dove; but alas! the time for miracles is over; the heavens are now closed, and though there are lots of pigeons, there is no Holy Ghost among them.”
 
Pancho’s acquaintance with this priest led him to be introduced to one of the dignitaries of the church, Cardinal Carlo. This cardinal was universally known on account of his boldness and eloquence. He made several attempts to convert Pancho.
 
“Your lack of faith,” he said, “is caused by a lack of love. Do you not know that the apostle said: “If I were in possession of all the treasures of the earth and of all knowledge, what would it benefit me, if I were deficient in love?”
 
“But what object am I to love?” asked Pancho.
 
“Why! Christ, of course,” answered the Cardinal.
 
“Unfortunately,” said Pancho, “I am not acquainted with him. How can I love a man who lived so many hundred years ago?”
 
“If you remember,” answered the Cardinal, “that this man is God and that he has come down from heaven to die a cruel death for the purpose of reconciling his father with mankind, a feeling of extreme gratitude must overcome you, which will surely kindle the fire of love in your heart. Read the Bible and see how much he has suffered, how he has been ill-treated and spat upon and how he was ultimately crucified, and all that for your own sake as well as for all mankind, and then tell me that you do not love him for it.”
 
“Alas!” said Pancho, “I have no historical proof that the story is true, and if it has actually happened, I can only feel pity for him. Moreover, there are {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=137}}numerous other people who have died an even more cruel death. Some of them have been tortured and afterwards burned alive, and they have submitted to it with a hope of thereby benefitting humanity. Why should I not love Giordano Bruno as much as the man called Christ? To tell you the truth I am disgusted with his father, for having used such abominable means to effect his own reconciliation. I cannot understand why he could not reconcile himself with mankind without sacrificing his son!”
 
“There are many things in religion,” answered the Cardinal, “which no man can grasp within his reason. On such occasions the best thing to do is to shut one’s reason up as in a prison, and believe in the doctrines. ''Credo quia absurdum'' is a very good maxim. The more absurd a doctrine appears to reason, the more is there a necessity for belief.”
 
Pancho answered that such an unreasonable belief seemed to him to be merely a superstition and degrading to the higher nature of man. The cardinal, seeing that Pancho could not be converted, discontinued his attempts and dismissed him, not without showing signs of his displeasure.
 
Once more Pancho passed a great deal of his time in reading the Bible; but he could find therein no proof of the immortality of the soul. The stories he found there seemed to him so improbable, that he felt inclined at last to regard them as allegories, representing some mysterious and unknown spiritual process, instead of historical events, alleged to have happened in external life. But neither the priest nor the cardinal could give him any other explanation except that they were historical facts. This seemed unreasonable to Pancho, and therefore he could find no external proof about a life hereafter except the fact that he had seen his wife’s ghost.
 
The knowledge of having seen and communicated with her afforded him great consolation and happiness. It is true that her spirit had appeared to him no more since he had left Africa; but this could easily be due to the fact that he had never been since then in the necessary state of tranquillity to perceive her, or that Conchita’s spirit, being of a very refined nature, had not sufficient power to communicate. But he was satisfied with the knowledge that she was alive and near him, and did not care for any more proofs.
 
One evening, as Pancho was standing before the tomb of Canova, he was interrupted in his meditations by the approach of a woman. She was past middle age, and dressed in the Italian style. When she saw Pancho, she seemed surprised.
 
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, “I have been sent to you by a sick lady. She is waiting to see you. Will you come with me?”
 
“My good woman,” answered Pancho, “you must be mistaken. I am a stranger in Venice.”
 
“I am not mistaken,” replied the woman. “The lady described you to me exactly, and said that you were a stranger. She can see everything when she is asleep. She then sees things which nobody else can see, and she foretells things which are going to happen. I never saw the like of it in my life.”
 
“Ah, a somnambule!” exclaimed Pancho. “This will be an interesting adventure. Perhaps I may find out through her the whereabouts of the Image. Let us go.”
 
They went, and while on the way, Marietta – for that was the name of the {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=138}}woman – told Pancho that the lady was a stranger and that she was illtreated by her husband.
 
“He is very cruel to her,” she said, “and is as jealous as a Turk. It would not have been possible to take you to see her, if the ''poltrone'' had not gone away to Verona and left her alone.”
 
They arrived at a poor-looking house in the Via Albanese. Entering though an arched doorway which led into a stone-paved court-yard, they ascended a dark and narrow staircase, and the woman opened a door which led into a scantily furnished room. Pancho entered, and before him stood a woman dressed in white with long black hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Motionless, and with her eyes closed, she looked more like a statue of stone than a living woman. In an instant Pancho recognized the form before him. It was that of his beloved Conchita!
 
{{Style P-Separator custom}}
 
<center>CHAPTER XV.</center>
 
<center>A DOUBLE PERSONALITY.</center>
 
For one moment Pancho stood speechless with surprise. She whom he had believed to be dead and with whose spirit he had communicated face to face was before him – not a spirit but a human being with flesh and blood. There could be no doubt. She was visible not only to him but to Marietta. She had not yet passed through the portals of death.
 
But what a change had taken place in her! What a difference there was between the beautiful angelic being that had floated before Pancho’s vision, and the emaciated form that stood here before him. True, there were still traces of beauty left upon her face; but that face was cadaverous, the eyes were now seated deep within their sockets; the lips had shrunk, her form was no longer rounded. Red spots upon her pale cheeks indicated consumption and the charms of the woman before him could not be compared with those of the ethereal being, the true Conchita, the spirit, nor with those of the woman with whom he had stood upon the balcony of the Cliff house. He almost regretted to find Conchita still alive and appearing to him in such an emaciated form.
 
Then it was that Pancho felt horrified at his own thoughts. It showed to him clearly that his love for her had been caused merely by her beauty and was therefore selfish.
 
“What,” he asked himself, “is a love whose existence is dependent on the qualities of a form? Can there, perchance, be a higher kind of love, one that is self-existent and divine and which does not need any objective shape to call it into existence?”
 
As if in answer to his thoughts, Conchita said:
 
“The sun exists independent of the objects in which his light becomes manifest, and likewise the sun of divine love is an eternal spiritual power, self-existent and independent of the objects which it illuminates. Forms cannot exist without love; but that which produces love is not created by love.”
 
This was indeed Conchita’s voice. Doubt was no longer possible. Pancho stepped forward toward the somnambule, preparing to touch her, when she lifted her hand and made a motion, as if she would not have him approach her.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=139}}
 
“Do not touch her,” she said, “for now you are cold as ice, and your touch would revive the powers of darkness that have happily fallen asleep. Free born is the spirit, but heavy the chains that bind it to the material clay. The soul loves light, but must return to its dungeon when it awakens.”
 
“Alas!” exclaimed Pancho. “How strangely you speak! Do you not know me; and are you not Conchita? Have you become a medium, and has some strange spirit taken possession of you?”
 
“No, Hasmaline!” answered Conchita. “It is her own self that speaks to you, now that the lower elements of her body permit its voice to be heard. When these elements are awake her body does not represent her true self, for the powers of evil have taken possession of the house which ought to be a temple of the Divine Spirit. When she is awake, she sleeps; but when she sleeps she is truly awake. Do not mistake the instrument for the power. Do not mistake the light of the sun that illuminates a diamond for a production of the diamond. All human bodies are mediums through which natural forces act; all souls are instruments through which the Spirit of Wisdom may become manifest.”
 
“Why do you call me Hasmaline?” asked Pancho, to which the somnambule answered:
 
“Is man, while in that spiritual sleep which he calls wakefulness, so entirely forgetful of his true nature and of the tribe to which he belongs, that he cannot remember his home? Our personalities, O, Hasmaline, belong to this inferior planet earth; but you and I are not bound to this single speck of dust in the universe. For millions of ages we have known each other. I have revolved within the orbit of the planet to which I am bound and where I find happiness; but you love to roam through space and will continue to do so until your cometary existence will come to an end at last, and you become engulfed in the glory of the sun that attracts you by the power of his divine love.”
 
A struggle for the recognition of something which had no existence for him took place in Pancho’s mind. For a moment he felt himself in a new world of light, surrounded by the most beautiful and radiant forms, but to see which he could not open his eyes.
 
One short moment, and his arguing intellect regained mastery over his mind and persuaded him that these things were delusions, unsupported by well established facts.
 
“Alas,” he said, “I see that you have gone completely mad, and it is all my own fault!”
 
“Do not think, O mortal,” continued the entranced form, “that the spirit which gives you life is a nonentity and the belief in it a delusion. Your consciousness is at present limited to your terrestrial state of existence; but there are other states, far superior to the one of which you are now aware. Your personality is ephemeral like that of the insect which is born to-day and dies to-morrow; but the Spirit of man, O Hasmaline, has existed for millions of ages. Always the same in its divine essence, it is for ever changing its manifestations in bodies, working its way into form, and through forms, until it awakens to find itself a god.”
 
“Gone!” sighed Pancho. “Entirely gone. O, how I wish you would say something reasonable!”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=140}}
 
“How insignificant,” went on the entranced woman, “is all the knowledge of terrestrial things when compared with the divine self-knowledge of the spirit. Can you not feel, O mortal, celestial love pervading all space? Can you not see the substantial light that surrounds you and which your spirit breathes? Can you not know yourself one with the universal Mind whose harmonies vibrate throughout the universe? You know only one little world; but there are worlds within worlds and systems within systems whose limits even thought cannot reach, and still all that unlimited infinitude exists within one’s own self-consciousness. It is ‘I.’”
 
“Oh!” said Pancho. “What a pity your reason should be so entirely gone! Can it ever be restored?”
 
Without paying attention to this remark, the Somnambulist assumed an attitude of prayer, and spoke the following words:
 
“Within myself shines the sun, the changing moon and the glittering stars Oceans are stored in my breast, my breath pervades the world, and my heart is a living fire in which all created things are for ever consumed. Within myself resides the glory and splendour of the universe and my dominion is the kingdom of joy. Wherever I am, there is peace and happiness and divine harmony; wheresoever I do not manifest, there is disorder and suffering. Open, O mortals, your hearts to the sunshine of eternal truth, and let divine thoughts descend upon you like rain-drops from heaven! Fill yourselves with the wine of love and feed upon the feast of the celestial manna prepared for you. Open the gates to that place where the lamb and the lion lie together, and behold the king in whose hands is the restoration of all peace.”
 
“Oh, what nonsense!” groaned Pancho. “Oh, that your reason could be called back!”
 
“A veil has been thrown over her external understanding,” answered Conchita “Her imagination is beclouded by the power of Sorcery. Still the light of the spirit clings with its roots to the centre of her being, and there is hope that the elements of darkness will be destroyed by the omnipotent power of love.”
 
“Where is Juana?” asked Pancho.
 
“Birds love their nests, and wolves their dens. The child of the forest has returned to her parent.”
 
“Now you speak sensibly,” said Pancho; “but how unfortunate it is that you have lost your mind and speak of yourself as if you were not yourself and of me as if I were another!”
 
“Know, O mortal,” she replied, “that to the truly enlightened the world of those illusions, which you call corporeal forms, does not exist.”
 
“How!” exclaimed Pancho. “Do you mean to say that my body which I can see and feel has no individuality? Do you mean to insinuate that my living and sentient form, and not only mine, but all others, have no substantiality or reality in them, that all our personalities are merely as shadows dancing upon a wall? Did God create a world of illusions for the purpose of misleading mankind?”
 
“No!” answered the speaker. “Existence is real, and forms are made to represent truths. It is man himself who makes himself illusions, and deludes himself by mistaking the forms for that which they only represent. Thus he mistakes the form for the spirit and the house for him that inhabits it.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=141}}
 
“The soul, O mortal, is far too grand to be imbedded and swallowed up in material clay. It resembles the boundless sky in whose infinitude floats a little cloud of visible matter, reflecting the light of the sun. This ever-changing cloud represents the terrestrial personality, reflecting a part of the light of the spirit. The Light itself is the ''real'' Being. Forms are merely instruments for its manifestation, and it manifests its activity according to the qualities and capacities of the form. The personality with its ever-changing states of consciousness, its variable thoughts and emotions, is continually born, continually dies, and is reproduced again from day to day; and when at last the form is dissolved the Light gathers to itself once more the rays which it lent to the form.”
 
“Is there, then, no real or permanent form?” asked Pancho.
 
“Not until it has imbibed the ''Elixir of Life'',” answered the speaker.
 
“And where can that Elixir be found?”
 
“It is with us wherever we go, and we can find it nowhere except within ourselves. It was even before the day of creation began and it still is, and will be. It is ‘the Life and the Light of men, that light that shineth eternally in darkness, and darkness comprehendeth it not.’ Men are not themselves the light, they can only ‘bear witness’ to it, by becoming instruments for its manifestation.”
 
“But,” put in Pancho, “the light shines also in a diamond, and renders it bright, and when the light disappears the diamond gradually loses its luminosity.”
 
“Thus also,” she replied, “the wind blows within the trees, and blows out again, carrying out with it the dead leaves to drop them on the ground. Likewise the breath of the spirit passes in and out of the soul. To fasten it there by the power of faith, and to render it firm as a rock: this is the secret of the ''Philosopher’s Stone.”''
 
“What do you mean by ‘Faith’?” asked Pancho. “Surely to believe oneself to be in possession of a thing is not sufficient to obtain it?”
 
And the woman answered:
 
“Mere belief is not faith. True faith is a magic power that overcomes all obstacles and which no one knows, except he who is in possession of it.”
 
“Why then,” he asked again, “is this great mystery not taught to mankind? Why do our clergymen not preach it from every pulpit, so that all men may find Light in themselves, and by clinging to it become immortal?”
 
“It has been taught and is still taught by thousands of tongues; but those who teach it do not recognise it themselves. They speak of it as if it were a dream or fable, and therefore their words have no power. It is the true Light which shineth within every man that cometh into the world, but the world knoweth it not, and will not receive it. From the unavailing efforts of the material intellect to perceive the light of the Spirit arise all your struggles. Intellect would seek in vain for truth within the realm of Imagination, and does not penetrate into the heart where the Light can be found. Those who thirst after truth must go to the fountain. There are many who imagine that they love truth; but their love is adulterous. It only seeks for the gratification of self and not for the attainment of Wisdom.”
 
Meanwhile, night was fast advancing. There was no lamp or candle in the {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=142}}room, but the moonlight shone through the window, and its beams fell upon the white-draped form of Conchita, as she still stood motionless, and thus resembling the Talking Image of Urur, as Pancho had seen it on that memorable day when he had seen the rosy light entering the cold stony Image. He remembered how he had wished that this light could enter himself, likewise, and fill him with knowledge. Then the entranced woman, as if divining his thought, uttered the following words:
 
“There is nothing to prevent the Holy Spirit of Wisdom from manifesting within the human consciousness, except that the minds of many are obsessed by erroneous doctrines, misconceptions, and unholy desires, the products of their own imagination. Ignorance darkens the mirror of the soul, and thus prevents the truth from reflecting itself therein in all its purity.”
 
And now a tremor seemed to pass through Conchita’s frame, who said: “Go now, my friend. Her body is about to awaken to consciousness, and she must not see you. Go!”
 
Pancho reluctantly left, and, giving his address to Marietta, made arrangements with her to be informed every day about the condition of the patient.
 
We will not stop to discuss on what pathological grounds Conchita’s abnormal condition could be explained, especially as the medical authorities, whom Pancho consulted, did not agree in their opinions about it. Some said it was merely Hysteria, others assured him that it was nothing but Hypnotism connected with unconscious cerebration. One authority swore that it was a case of spinal meningitis, and a professor of “psychiatry” declared it to be a pathological condition of the vasomotoric ganglia. Some advised bleeding, others large doses of morphia with bromide of potassium, and still another, cauterization by means of a white-hot iron. None of these remedies were, however, accepted.
 
But whether the utterances of the patient were the ravings of a maniac, or inspired by a superior spirit, at all events, they caused Pancho to reflect very deeply. He made up his mind to seek within himself for that interior Light, by whose knowledge it was said one could learn more important truths than from any information coming from outside sources, be they what they may. He tried to practise concentration of thought, that is to say, to collect his thoughts and to keep them upon one single idea instead of permitting them to disperse in various directions; and, after a comparatively short time, he found a great deal of internal tranquillity within himself, although he did not find the Light. Then it was that the meaning of an allegory which he had read in the Bible became clear to him. It was that passage which describes how the disciples went in a ship, and the sea arose by reason of a great wind. They had great fear, but they saw somebody walking upon the troubled waters and he spoke to them: “It is I; be not afraid. Then they willingly received him and ''immediately the ship was at the land whither they went.”'' This he supposed meant that the peace comes to those who do not reject it, and that with the recognition of truth, doubt and discontent disappear.
 
Let us now return to the ''Via Albanese'' and see what took place in Conchita’s room after she awakened from her trance.
 
We find her resting upon a lounge, her eyes wide open and her hands folded over her head. Gazing at the ceiling she seems to be thinking as if trying to {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=143}}remember a dream. After a while she calls Marietta, and the latter enters the room.
 
“Marietta,” says Conchita, “give me some strong brandy. I feel very bad.”
 
Marietta disappears and soon enters with the desired liquid. “How is your head?” she asks.
 
“It is all right now,” answered Conchita; “but I had such a silly dream. It seemed to me as if snakes and reptiles were crawling into my brain. I combed my hair and out came little scorpions that had just been hatched and they fell upon the floor. There was a curious insect with four heads among them and they looked like the heads of birds. I put my foot upon it and killed it.”
 
“You ought not to imagine such things, Mrs. Smith,” remarked Marietta; “and it would be better for you to pray.”
 
“Pray to whom? to the devil? Know, that I do not imagine such things. I see them; they are perfectly real to me, and you must be blind if you cannot see them. And mind! do not call me ‘Mrs. Smith,’ because I dislike that name. Call me simply Juana.”
 
Marietta was horrified at Conchita’s profane language. She was a very pious woman who not only grieved sincerely about the sufferings which Jesus had incurred at the hands of the Pharisees, but used to cry for hours because Nebuchadnezzar had to eat grass for seven years, and wept very bitterly over the story of Joseph sold into captivity by his own brothers. She was a devout Christian, in the habit of saying her prayers regularly, although she did not know that praying required abstraction of thought.
 
“It is very wicked of you to talk in that way,” she answered, “especially as you spoke so nicely when that doctor was here.”
 
“Was there any doctor here?” asked Conchita. “Did I not tell you to let no one enter my room when I have one of my fits.”
 
“It was yourself who sent me for him,” answered Marietta.
 
“If he comes again,” said Conchita, “get some boiling water and throw it over him. I do not want to have any doctors around me when I am in one of my fits. They know nothing and can do me no good.”
 
“One never knows how to please ''you,”'' grumbled Marietta. “Your parents must have had great trouble with you when you were a child.”
 
“I never was a child and I never had any parents,” replied Conchita. “At least I do not remember anything about such sorts of things. I have been Mrs. Smith all my life.”
 
“How can that be?” exclaimed Marietta.
 
“All that I remember,” went on Conchita, “is that I once had a fit, or fever, or some sort of disease, and when I recovered I was Mrs. Juana Smith. But of what happened before that time I have no recollection whatever, and my husband says that it is none of my business to know it. Nor do I care for it. I would rather enjoy the present than worry about what happened in the past. Will it not soon be time for the Carnival?”
 
“Yes, it begins in two weeks.”
 
“Ah, well! Then you and I will go to the masquerade and have some fun.”
 
Thus it was evident that Conchita was leading a double existence. When in her higher state of consciousness, or a “trance,” her mind was at perfect rest and her own imagination inactive, she served as an instrument through which some {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=26|p=144}}superior spirit, perhaps her own, could manifest its wisdom and use her organs of speech. But when the functions of her own physical brain again began their work by the awakening of her external consciousness, she exhibited all the traits of Juana. In fact, it seemed that she had come so much under the influence of that Indian girl that it was as if a part of Juana’s very self had been implanted into her soul. Her sickness was apparently caused by the influence of that foreign element. At the time when she had come under the full control of her “magnetizers,” they had commanded her to forget her whole past life and to believe that she was Mrs. Smith. All this is neither very wonderful, nor very incredible, for similar experiments have since then been performed by means of what is called “hypnotism,” or to express it in plain language by a transmission of will.
 
Two days after the events described above, Pancho was again called to Conchita, whom he found entranced as before, and his visit was frequently repeated. And now we might write a whole volume of the teachings which Pancho received from her. But we cannot attempt to give in these pages even a tithe of them. A few extracts from some of the more comprehensible, only, must be given as characteristic specimens.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=239}}
 
<center>SOME SPIRIT TEACHINGS.</center>
 
“All thinking minds are instruments for the influx of thoughts and ideas; in each the truth may be reflected; but only those who are in possession of self-knowledge can discriminate between the true and the false, and open the door to the true while rejecting that which is false. Absolute truth is self-existent and One; it cannot be divided, but when its rays are reflected in various minds their appearances change, while the truth which they represent remains always the same. Thus our terrestrial light comes from the sun and still the sun remains undivided. His rays are reflected in the rose as ‘red,’ in the tulip as ‘yellow,’ in the lily as ‘white.’ Roses, tulips and lilies die, the sunlight disappears from us at the approach of night, but the Sun and his light remain unchanged in space.”
 
“The All is an indivisible Unity, producing differences merely in the modes of its manifestations. The substance of all is essentially one; differences exist merely in their outward appearances; there can be no essential difference between Matter and Mind, nor between the essence of one being and that of another. We are all one in the spirit although we seem divided by form. All things are thoughts and all thoughts are things. Man is composed of thoughts made ‘flesh,’ and each of his thoughts represents a part of himself. Forms are conceptions of the mind, and changeable conceptions produce changeable forms; only when the truth is conceived as it is, and not merely as what it appears to be, will the true conception be found.”
 
“All states of consciousness from the highest down to the lowest, are manifestations of one Consciousness and as there are no breaks in the continuity of evolution, there must be numerous grades of conscious beings or intelligent powers in the universe, from the first manifestation of Divine Wisdom down to where consciousness becomes merely manifest by attraction or gravitation. There is a law of harmony, determining which sounds and which colours form harmonious accords and likewise determining the conditions of the association among superior and inferior beings. That which is not in unison with divine harmony is a discord in nature and will disappear.”
 
“No one can know and realise any other truth than that which exists within his own being. As the Sun is the luminous centre from which all the parts of his system receive their light likewise there exist at the centres of the Microcosm of Man a spark of a Divine Sun from which his world receives its light. He who penetrates to that centre may know all things, for all knowledge is contained in God. Books can teach man nothing which his spirit does not already know; they are merely mirrors in which men may see their own ideas reflected; they are means by which the knowledge of the spirit may be assisted to come to the consciousness of the external understanding of Man.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=240}}
 
“Men imagine that they have their own independent thoughts and ideas. Nevertheless each one is a mirror in which the images of existing thoughts emanating from others are continually reflected; most men do not think what they will, but they think what they must. Reason alone is the great arbitrator of thought. It decides what thoughts should be admitted and which ideas should be rejected. Only when men’s will becomes free by being illuminated with divine reason, will men become self-thinking and free. Men do not originate new ideas; it is the reflection of already existing ideas that become alive and conscious in their minds. Learn to shut the door of your mind to low ideas and Divinity itself will do its thinking in You. Keep your mind directed towards the source of all Light within yourself and the Light will not fail to come.”
 
On one occasion she said: “He only is truly ''Man'' who possesses the dignity of Man. The snake is crawling in the dust but the eagle rises upwards towards the sunlight. I was smitten with disease when I was in darkness; but when I found the Light I was made whole; the clouds in my mind vanished and my soul became clear as a crystal; the Light gave me power over the elements and spirits became my servants. When I ceased to be an animal, I became acquainted with human beings. My world was dark, but I saw the Star of the East and became transfigured by the Light. Let there be room for the Light, so that your interior senses may be opened to the perception of truth.”
 
Such passages as the above were as incomprehensible to Pancho, as they will probably be difficult to some of our readers. He did not obtain any explanations from the somnambule, nor did he dare to ask for them; for on such occasions she looked like a superior being, unapproachable and like one transfigured into a saint.
 
Thus on another occasion she said: “God needs Man for the purpose of revealing himself in his own perfection. He is the powerful spring which gives Life. The seed is only one; but there are many powers contained in it. In the centre is God, breathing upon the soul and there the manifested One speaks the word that calls the dead to life. From the Centre comes the Light that permeates the interior chambers, illuminating the whole of the temple, even the physical body of man. In the centre is Unity, three in one, body and soul and intelligence. God is great and Man is little, but man may become great in God as a tree may grow out of a little seed. Not from one part of the world nor from another comes the Light, but from the Interior. In the Heart is the cradle in which the new-born in the spirit is breathing. When Man enters the world he inherits the sin of the flesh by the blood of which his form is generated; but the Children of Light have cast off that which is impure and broken the shell that excluded the Light. Love is the root of the Law, it includes all powers; seek for the heart that pulsates with Love and over which the blood has no power.”
 
When asked about the correctness of the speculations of our modern psychiatrists, physiologists, spiritualists, theosophists, rationalists and other “ists,” she said: “Those who seek for the truth in external things are in error. Their space is empty and they wander about like the blind, each one seeking to enjoy the fruits that belong to another. Those who have attained self-knowledge do not wish to triumph over them, but to aid those who desire to obtain it, and {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=241}}how could they be aided better than by having a mirror held up before them in which they may recognise their infirmities? Truth is self-existent and independent of the opinions of men; it needs no one to defend it; but men need our aid to defend themselves against error. The truth is not born by men; but men are reborn by the recognition of truth. It must be found in the realm of truth and not in the realm of fancy. You who desire peace, do not enter the battle for truth; but battle against your own errors and the truth will come to your aid. ‘Throw away every false belief and follow me,’ says the voice of the Spirit. Renounce the illusory treasures of Egypt, deluded rationalism and dogmas, and enter the Holy Land of the spirit. Knock at the door of eternity; it is within and not outside of you. Faithfully turn your eyes towards the sublime and immortal spirit within you. Your interior heaven will be opened and you will know the mysteries which are beyond the grasp of your intellectual reasoning and argumentation. Peace be with you.”
 
Such were some of the teachings which Pancho received through the mouth of the entranced Conchita. Whether they were the reflections of his own unconscious ideas, whether she was obsessed by spirits or inspired by members of the Mysterious Brotherhood, or whether these doctrines came from the Spirit of Truth itself, he did not know. He looked upon them with suspicion and his intellect often tried to persuade him that they were the ravings of an insane woman; but in his heart he felt that they were true and after many stormy battles his heart won a victory over the brain.
 
During all this time it was Pancho’s desire to obtain an interview with Conchita when she was not in an entranced condition; but to this the controlling influence whatever it was, did not consent; giving, however, no other reason but that it would not be well for Conchita to see him, and Pancho did not dare to disobey.
 
Marietta was enjoined to keep strict silence in regard to these interviews; and Pancho told her nothing about his relations to Mrs. Smith, except that he had known her before she took that disease in which she lost her memory and before she was Mrs. Smith.
 
He gave Marietta a ring, asking her to present it under some pretext to Mrs. Smith. It was a ring which he had received from Conchita herself and with the letters “P. C.” engraved in it. Conchita received the ring but did not recognize it.
 
Pancho saw Conchita only during her states of trance when her lower consciousness was not aware of his presence and his desire to see her in her normal condition became very strong. He persuaded himself that it was not mere curiosity that made him wish to see her when she was awake; but that from a scientific point of view it would be most interesting and useful to do so. Moreover, the time of the Carnival was approaching and he knew that this might offer him a chance to see and observe Conchita without being seen by her. He made arrangements with Marietta to bring “Mrs. Smith” at a certain hour to the piazza; while he himself would be there masked and disguised. Marietta promised to obey. Conchita was very anxious to see the grand masquerade and consequently two dresses were procured; that of a Neapolitan peasant woman for Marietta and for Conchita one to represent her as a Gipsy-Queen.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=242}}
 
During all this time Mr. Hagard, or, as he now called himself, “Mr. Smith,” came occasionally to Venice and went away again. Nobody knew where he went, and nobody cared to know. It was believed that he had business at Verona; but he was not very communicative on this subject, and kept his own counsel for reasons best known to himself. Strange to say, Conchita never had any of her “fits” when he was at home.
 
In the intervals between his visits to the somnambule, Pancho made some attempts to follow the teachings received from her, and which he found to be identical with those of the Image. He tried to collect his thoughts and to keep them collected, and then to penetrate with them deeper within his own interior world; but he found that it cost heroic efforts to do so; for whenever a certain point of concentration was reached, other images and thoughts, especially that of Conchita, would float up before his mental vision and distract his attention, so that he could not enter into the depths of his own being, and thus he found that it is very difficult to rise above the realm of illusions and to cross the threshold of the sanctuary where the true Reality can be found.
 
The day of the great masquerade appeared, and the whole of Venice was in a state of excitement. Gay masks went through the streets, rode in gondolas upon the canals, and invaded the houses to play practical jokes. Strangers arrived in great numbers; the hotels and boarding-houses were full of pleasure-seeking humanity; bands played, and great preparations were made for the grand tournament, which was to be the most prominent event of the season.
 
Mr. Hagard had returned from one of his mysterious voyages, and seemed to be in a better humour than usual; it seemed as if he had succeeded in some scheme, but what it was, no one seemed to know.
 
As it may interest some of our readers to study Mr. Hagard’s character, we will pay some attention to him. He was no worse a villain than hundreds of others one daily meets in the streets, men who occupy respectable positions in the ranks of society. He would not have murdered a man for his money, nor broken into a bank, nor forged a cheque, nor done anything which would involve a risk of coming in conflict with the law. He was even believed to be a pious man, and in his younger days he had taught a class in a Sunday School. But with all that he believed that if one man could get, by his wits, the best of another, he was justified in doing so, and there was no villainy which Hagard would not have committed, provided it was not prohibited by legal enactments.
 
We will leave the gay throng on the piazza and go to a place near the arsenal, which was now almost deserted; for all the working-men had a holiday and everyone who could had gone to see the great Masquerade. Here we find Mr. Hagard and a stranger engaged in conversation.
 
“I have put myself entirely in your hands,” said the stranger, “and I hope that you will not take advantage of my faith in your honesty. A man, a word!”
 
“You may trust me entirely,” said Mr. Hagard. “I know how to keep mum. I have looked over the plans of the factory, but I want to see myself how the engine works.”
 
“It is the most difficult thing to introduce you into the factory,” said the stranger. “No visitors are ever admitted, and all the workmen are put under {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=243}}oath, bound to keep the strictest secrecy, and to never let any outsider see the machinery. If the superintendent were to find out that I have permitted you to look at the engine, I should be immediately dismissed, and I have a family to support.”
 
“Suppose you get me the key to the engine-house,” said Mr. Hagard. “I will then admit myself. The worst thing that can happen to me if I am discovered is that they will put me out.”
 
“But what will you say if they ask you how you got in?” asked the stranger.
 
“I will say nothing,” answered Mr. Hagard; “because I do not understand your confounded Italian; and if they ask me in English, I will tell them that I tried the door and found it open, and walked in out of curiosity.”
 
“I will get you a key,” said the stranger. “But what have you concluded in regard to the conditions which I proposed to you at our last meeting?”
 
‘Let me see,” said Mr. Hagard. “I am going to pay your expenses for going from here to Sacramento, and to give you a half-interest in the profits of the factory which I am going to establish, and of which you are to be the superintendent. You are to put up the building and the engines and to get everything in working order.”
 
“That was the proposal,” said the stranger, “and in addition you will pay me five thousand dollars when I get ready to start. I must have something to live on before the thing is in shape.”
 
“I agree to it,” said Mr. Hagard; “but I must see how the engine works. I want to know the whole process, because, if anything were to happen to you on the voyage, I and my factory would be left in the lurch.”
 
“I have written it out plain enough for any child to understand,” said the stranger. “I have made all the necessary drawings and calculations. I will hand you the papers on the receipt of the five thousand dollars, when our contract is signed. I will give you a key to the engine-house, and let you know the best time when to sneak in without being observed.”
 
“Very well!” said Mr. Hagard. “I will leave Venice to-night and be at Trieste in the morning.”
 
“All right,” said the stranger. “I shall be at the appointed place. It is an immense scheme. There are millions in it.”
 
“Millions!” groaned Mr. Hagard.
 
The stranger took leave and went away and Mr. Hagard walked off in another direction.
 
We will now return to the ''piazza'', where we find Pancho watching the crowd near the landing-place, where according to his agreement with Marietta he was to meet his wife. At a short distance from where he stood, a harlequin amused the crowd and his remarks were received with shouts of laughter. Pancho wore no mask but the usual cloak; and his face was covered with a vizor. This circumstance gave rise to some jocular abservations.
 
“What do you represent?” asked a mask, dressed as a monster.
 
“A man,” answered Pancho.
 
“Then,” said the monster, “you ought to have chosen a different costume, for a modern European dress does not represent the true character of men, it merely shows their complexity, with an irregular flap here and another one there, all {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=244}}stuck together to adapt themselves to the form; but nothing made out of the whole cloth, to show unity and simplicity as did the Ancient Greeks. Look at me, I represent a man as much as you.”
 
“Not all men are such monsters as you are,” said Pancho.
 
“If they were all to show their true character, you would find more monstrous ones than myself.”
 
“Do not men usually show their true character?” asked Pancho.
 
“No,” answered the mask. “Most men go disguised all the year round and show themselves as they are, only at the time of the Carnival.”
 
“You are an amiable monster, but not over polite.”
 
“Politeness itself is a mask,” was the answer, “which cannot be laid aside, except at the time of the Carnival.”
 
Just then a gondola approached the landing-place. It contained two ladies, of whom one was dressed like a Neopolitan peasant woman and the other a gipsy queen. They wore no face-masks and Pancho immediately recognised Conchita.
 
The gondola landed within a few yards from where Pancho stood, and the ladies stepped ashore. At this moment the monster, evidently desiring to play a practical joke, approached Pancho and pulled the vizor from his face. For a moment the Gipsy Queen stared at Pancho; then uttering a cry she fell upon the steps that led down to the water edge. A stream of blood flowed from her mouth, her eyes closed, and she seemed like one dead.
 
Pancho rushed to her assistance and lifted her back into the gondola. But at this moment an unforeseen occurrence took place. The accident had attracted attention, and among the many that rushed to the spot, there was a man dressed like a Turk who recognised Pancho and called upon the police to arrest him.
 
“This is the man,” he cried, “who stole the ‘Image’ from the temple of Urur. There is a reward offered for his capture.”
 
“A church robber!” exclaimed some of the crowd.
 
A clown, who proved to be an employé of the hotel where Pancho lodged, interfered. “This gentleman,” he said, “is no bandit. He is Mr. Krashibashi.”
 
“No!” cried the Turk, who was none other than Mr. Puffer, who on his voyage to Africa had stopped at Venice; “he is not Krashibashi. He is a church-breaker, a villain, a knave. He has failed in his chelaship and now he has become a black magician. Arrest him!”
 
“And who are you?” asked the clown.
 
“I am Brahmâ,” answered the Turk.
 
The crowd increased with every moment and became excited. Some imagined that Pancho had robbed a Catholic church and others that he had murdered the woman in the gondola. Church robbery is no light offence in a Catholic country and a murderer finds little sympathy before he has been condemned by law. Soon imprecations and curses were heard and the crowd began to assume a threatening attitude; policemen, anxious to pocket the promised reward, hurried on the scene, and in less time than it would take to describe it, Pancho found himself locked in a prison, while the Gipsy Queen was carried home.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=245}}
 
{{Style P-Separator custom}}
 
<center>CHAPTER XVI.</center>
 
<center>ESCAPED.</center>
 
The cell in which Pancho was locked up was by no means so disagreeable as those which he had seen in the palace of the Doge, which in former times were used by the holy inquisition for the purpose of silencing obtrusive critics. Those who have seen the latter know that they consisted of kennels, unfit even to serve as habitations for dogs. He who entered therein a prisoner was never to see the sunlight again nor the human face divine, nor even that of the executioner, who despatched him to a presumably better world and whose block awaited him a few steps from the prison door. Pancho’s cell was big enough for a person to stand upright and wide enough to allow moving about, nevertheless it was not so agreeable as to make a long stay therein eminently desirable. There was a small grated window with iron bars near the top of the wall, but it had a wooden box on the outside, so as to make it impossible to see anything beyond, except a small part of the sky.
 
The day being a general holiday, no commissary of police nor even a lawyer could be found, and Pancho had to resign himself to the unavoidable necessity of remaining all night in this den. He did, however, not worry about it for he was in a condition of mind that required solitude and rest, only he wanted to know about Conchita’s condition. Was she dead, or had she recovered? Did her memory return, or did she still imagine herself to be Juana? He cursed his own curiosity, which had been once more the cause of his misfortune, as it had been when he left San Francisco for the foolish purpose of seeking self-knowledge in Africa.
 
Slowly the day wore on. From the outside could be heard the sounds of the orchestra that played on the Rialto and the shouts of the crowd, from time to time a flash of light at the window followed by a crack indicated that a rocket had burst in the sky. For a long time he paced his cell, but at last his excitement gave way to fatigue and he fell asleep.
 
There is a popular superstition among scientists and rationalistic philosophers, according to which dreams are the results of bodily sensations and mental impressions received during the day; but “there are dreams and dreams.” There are the vagaries of fancy impressing the half conscious brain before it has again resumed its regular occupation, there are the semi-conscious states in which the mind sees its own images thrown more or less into confusion, at a time when the light of reason has not yet returned from the interior sanctuary and assumed its rule over the intellectual functions of the speculative mind. The latter then resemble a school of small boys, frolicking and amusing themselves at their own sweet will, while the teacher is absent. But there are also prophetic dreams, during which the soul may behold, as in a mirror, things of which the arguing intellect, reasoning from the material plane, can form no conception. During such moments the mind draws nearer to the divine spirit in its own centre, receiving its light and its teachings. There, in the centre, where rests the “golden egg” in which is contained all wisdom, no past and no future exists, but all things are eternally present. The soul being in closer contact with the divine spirit, may then by means of such dreams bring the knowledge of the spirit to the external consciousness of the mind.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=246}}
 
<center>A VISION.</center>
 
Such a “dream” perhaps it was, which Pancho dreamed that night in his prison at Venice. He saw himself floating in that rosy light, which he had seen around the head of the Talking Image. He was surrounded and penetrated by it, immersed in an ethereal realm of infinite bliss. He was Pancho no more, he neither knew nor cared to know who that personality called “Pancho” was, he only knew that he existed as an individual and self-conscious being and yet as an integral part of the infinite All. It seemed to him that he was like a globe of living light, self-luminous and nevertheless reflecting a part of a far greater light coming from some more interior centre. Far below him in space was an inferior planet, which he recognised as being the earth, and upon its surface he saw an apparently formless mass, writhing with life.
 
As he drew nearer, he saw that this formless mass resolved itself into a vast multitude of ever changing individual forms of human beings, and that an almost imperceptibly small portion of that rosy light penetrated each individual form, and caused a few individuals to radiate as if endowed with the glory surrounding the head of a saint. There were comparatively few men and women who knew about the existence of that rosy light or who paid any attention to its presence, they were too much engaged in running after various shadows which they mistook for realities. Some were running after fortune, some after fame, some were led on by a shadow called “ambition,” others were mocked by an illusion called “love,” but which seen from that height could easily be recognized as being merely an inverted image caused by the reflection of a ray of true spiritual love. Many were imagining that they saw spirits and trying to catch them, but these spirits were only the creations of their brains and had no substance, while none seemed to know the true Spirit in whom all real powers are contained. All these people among whom he at last also recognised his own image and that of others whom he knew, could not see real truth, love, justice, beauty and harmony; but they had invented artificial things which they called by such names and which presented many curious phantastic shapes. This writhing mass of humanity continually changed its form, being born, living, dying, to be born to live and to die again, while the rosy light forever remained.
 
As his attention became attracted towards that rosy light, he found that the light itself was the Life, filling each living form with life and being itself filled with living and ethereal forms of great beauty. Those forms were of human shapes and of a godlike aspect, looking as if they were the concentrated essence of love and intelligence, and some of them had their own images reflected in the surging mass of humanity below, just as the light of a star may be reflected in a pool of water upon the earth. But in these cases the images assumed living shapes, looking like the rest of humanity.
 
As he espied his own personality among that scrambling mass of mortals, he was grieved to see its many imperfections and how utterly incapable it appeared to be of comprehending and holding the light of the spirit. He now fully realized the insignificance of his own personality, which like that of the others was merely a passing shadow, a hallucination, produced by that nightmare called {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=247}}“terrestrial life,” which is itself the outcome of ignorance. As he conceived of being one with that personality called “Pancho” a feeling of sorrow came over him, which attracted him to that form. He struggled to free himself from this attraction, but he was irresistibly drawn in an earthward direction, for his time of liberation had not yet come. A moment of unconsciousness followed, and then Pancho “awoke.”
 
Pancho “awoke,” that is to say his terrestrial personality began again to dream the dream called “life,” while the perceptive faculties of his soul entered into a semi-conscious condition and his spiritual vision became dimmed, but he remembered enough of that glorious vision to realise the immense superiority of a life in the spirit over the earth-dream of life. He longed to be forever united to that glorious being, his own higher Ego, which had obtained freedom from the bonds of matter and was existing in the realm of eternal truth.
 
It was early in the morning, but soon the jailor made his appearance and Pancho gave him orders for breakfast, asking him at the same time to inquire about Mrs. Smith. Breakfast came, but no news from Conchita and moreover he was informed that this was a holy day on which no official business could be transacted, and that all that could be done was to wait until after the holy days were over, when the commissary would attend to his case.
 
“And how long will these cursed holy days last?” asked Pancho.
 
“Church-robbers,” answered the jailor, “have no respect for holy days, though other people have. Let me see. Yesterday was Shrove Tuesday, to-day is Ash Wednesday, to-morrow will be the feast of Saint Thomas and on Friday that of San Giovanni. Saturday is too late in the week to begin anything, and no business can be done on Sunday, but it may be that next Monday the commissary will come. You will therefore have ample time to consult a lawyer to prepare your defence, if there is any. Lawyers are usually not very strict Christians and I think Mr. Caramucho, the criminal pleader, will be here to-morrow, if you wish to see him.”
 
Pancho expressed his willingness to see Caramucho and on the following day a little man, wearing a black moustache and gold spectacles, entered the cell.
 
Pancho told his story and the lawyer shook his head.
 
“It is a sad case,” said Caramucho, “the assuming of a false name is the most serious point against you. The best thing for you to do will be to say nothing at all about Pancho, and to remain Krasi-Basi. Mr. Brahm says that Krasi-Basi is the legal owner of the Talking Image, and if you are Krasi-Basi, you have merely carried away your own property, to which you have a legal right. By the by, how much is the statue worth?”
 
“It is worth nothing to me,” answered Pancho, somewhat irritated at being still looked upon as a thief. “It is merely a curiosity because it can speak.”
 
The lawyer incredulously shook his head.
 
“That makes the case still worse,” he said. “If the statue can speak, it must be a living person, and you will be indicted for murder or abduction if it is not of age. You will have to remain in prison until the authorities at the Cape are notified, when they will either send Captain Bumpkins to identify you, or request your extradition according to Paragraph 1,329, Article 3,566 of the Penal Code.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=27|p=248}}
 
“But I did not take the statue away,” remonstrated Pancho.
 
“That remains to be proved,” said the lawyer. “If you bring a hundred witnesses to swear that they did not see you take it away, their testimony will go for nothing against the evidence of one witness who swears that he believes you took it. Circumstantial evidence goes a long way. You have been at Urur. You have been seen prowling about the temple; the Image disappeared, and you left soon afterwards. There is enough evidence to convince a jury of average intelligence that you are guilty, and to hang you on the spot. I am your attorney, and you had better tell me the truth, so that I can see my way clear. In this way I may perhaps save you a few years of hard labour in the penitentiary.”
 
“It is all pure and unadulterated nonsense,” replied Pancho. “The Image was a very extraordinary thing; it had its own will, and nobody could have taken it away, if it had not wanted to go. It was a production of Magic, and had magic powers. I should not be surprised if it were suddenly to appear in court to testify in my favour.”
 
“That would help you nothing,” said Caramucho. “Its evidence would not be admitted. Our law makers were too much enlightened to believe in magic and sorcery; our penal code does not admit supernatural things. It is known that statues cannot speak, and therefore they are not permitted to testify. Nothing that would go to prove the existence of occult phenomena is ever admitted as evidence.”
 
“But would not the judge believe his own senses, if something extraordinary were to happen in court?” asked Pancho.
 
“Nothing extraordinary is permitted to happen in court,” said the lawyer, “and if any witness testifies to having seen such things, he is immediately put down as a lunatic. The only way in such a case for a witness to save himself from being sent to the insane asylum is to declare that he has been cheated by some trickster.”
 
“It is a queer state of things,” said Pancho, “if one has to lie to save oneself from injustice in a court of justice.”
 
Caramucho shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=329}}
 
We will not ask the reader to follow Pancho in his meditations; it may be sufficient to say that it seemed to him more than ever that the whole world was one great and ludicrous maskerade, in which the truth is neither desired nor understood. He saw himself engulfed in a mass of hallucinations and conflicts arising from the most profound ignorance existing in all departments of human life, and he asked himself whether it would not be better to make an end to the farce and to step out of a life in which there was no truth, and which seemed to have no object. But who assured him that if he were to make an end to it by his own hands, that he would find the truth after all? If knowledge of spiritual things is attainable without the possession of a physical form, why then are men born at all? Perhaps if they step out prematurely, before they have gained the experience which they need, they may have to be born again to acquire it, and, perhaps, under less favourable conditions than they are enjoying at present? He now saw how unreasonably he had acted in the past, merely because he had no self-knowledge, but allowed himself to be misled by appearances and by adopting the opinions of other people in the place of perceiving the truth. He realised that it would have been far better for him if he had always listened to the voice of conscience that speaks within the heart, instead of following the vagaries created by the imagination. In the voice of conscience he now recognized the “invisible guide,” of whom he had read in the Book of Mysteries, and he made up his mind henceforth under all circumstances to follow that guide, and always cling to the truth. To begin with, he resolved not to take the lawyer’s advice, but to confess openly who he was. He had had enough of the fictitious Krashibashi.
 
On the following day, although it was still holiday, his release came in an unexpected manner. Early in the morning, the commissary of police arrived, and, with many apologies, begged pardon for having detained Pancho.
 
“I regret it exceedingly that you have been deprived of your liberty so long. Just to think of such a distinguished person being shut up in a prison. But it is all due to the stupidity of the police. As soon as I found out who it was that was honouring us, I immediately hastened to release you. I hope you will bear us no grudge, and consider the little unpleasantness as a carnival joke.”
 
“But,” said Pancho, “my name is not – ”
 
“Your name, Mr. Kratki-Bashik,” interrupted the commissary, “is known all over the world as belonging to one of the most distinguished and celebrated prestidigitateurs and cleverest sleight of hand performers of this age. I saw you myself many years ago perform at Vienna. What nice things you did! How I laughed to see you make coffee out of shavings, and milk out of cotton; and steaming hot they were; and how you fell down and smashed that stove-pipe {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=330}}hat, which you had borrowed from a gentleman in the audience, and then you apologised to him and cut the hat to pieces and made it whole again. I am sure that gentleman was your confederate.”
 
“But you are mistaken,” said Pancho, “I never – ”
 
“No,” said the commissary, interrupting the sentence, “of course you did not make the coffee out of the shavings, but it looked so natural. By-the-bye, you must have played it hard upon these Africans with your ‘Talking Image.’ What a hoax! Just think of it. That man Brahm went completely crazy over it. He actually swears that the statue could speak. He is raving about it, and has had to be sent to the insane asylum. I know how the trick is done. I have seen you cut off the head of a man, and the head talked while it was upon the table. What a fool this Mr. Brahm is!”
 
The commissary shook with laughter.
 
“Moreover,” he continued, after the fit of laughing was over, “it has been discovered that the man’s name is not ‘Brahm’ at all, but ‘Puffer.’ The case requires the strictest investigation. Just imagine the enormity of this impudence. To give a false name and try to mislead the authorities. This alone is enough to prove him either insane or a most hardened criminal. He deserves an exemplary punishment. I tell you we are not to be imposed on by such a ragamuffin. There is nothing so secret that we do not find it out. We always keep our eyes open.”
 
Pancho did not consider it advisable to continue the conversation.
 
The commissary accompanied him to the door, still begging his pardon for the mistake, and expressing a hope that he would reveal to him the mystery of the stove-pipe hat.
 
Pancho went to his lodgings, and immediately sent for Marietta. From her he learned that Conchita had recovered, but that on the very next day Mr. Smith had taken her away, and that they both had left for parts unknown. She supposed that they had gone to Verona.
 
On the next day Pancho went to Verona, and hunted everywhere for a man by the name of Smith, but although there were many Smiths in the city, he could not find the one Smith he wanted. He returned to Venice, and with the aid of his new friend, the commissary of police, he tried for a week to find out all the Smiths in Europe.
 
Letters were written in every direction, and numerous answers received. There was in almost every town and village some version of “Smith.” The letters coming from Germany spoke of many “Smiths, Schmieds, Schmidts,” but there was not the right one among them. There was none whose description fitted Mr. Hagard. Pancho at last gave up his research, nor would it have done him any good if he had hunted up all the Smiths in the world, for Mr. Hagard had taken the name of “Muggins,” and instead of going to Verona he had taken passage on the steamer that leaves at midnight for Trieste.
 
<center>CHAPTER XVII.</center>
 
Not very far from Trieste, in a valley surrounded by some spurs of the Alpine Mountains, is a semi-Italian town. The country there looks like a garden. There are fields of grain, divided off into parcels by rows of mulberry trees {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=331}}upon which the silkworm feeds, and swinging vines creep from tree to tree forming natural hedges, while the neighbouring hills are covered with vineyards and olives. The valley is watered by a river of considerable size, coming from the mountains and running swiftly towards the ocean. The village itself is composed of factories, the houses are spacious and high, and instead of church steeples and spires, there is a forest of tall chimneys continually sending forth dark volumes of smoke up to the blue Italian sky.
 
In the neighbourhood of that village, but still nearer to the coast, there is a solitary inn. In its vicinity there are celebrated stalactite caves, and the place, on account of its beauty and salubrity of climate, is considerably frequented by tourists during a certain season of the year; although the great stream of pleasure-seeking humanity does not yet run in this direction. At the time of which we are writing there were only a few guests at the place.
 
It was on a frosty morning in February, when a carriage drove up to the door of the hotel and from it alighted a coarse-looking man and an extremely pale and delicate-looking lady, who was, to all appearance, consumptive, and had to be assisted to descend from the coach.
 
Immediately the housekeeper appeared, making many reverential bows.
 
“Do you speak English?” said the stranger.
 
“A leedle, mine sir!” answered the innkeeper.
 
“I want a room for Mrs. Muggins,” said the newcomer in whom our readers will recognize Mr. Hagard.
 
The strangers were taken upstairs and soon “Mr. Muggins” left again, to take, as he said, a stroll. Conchita was fatigued and went to bed, waiting for his return; but Mr. Hagard did not return, neither on that day nor on any following one: his disappearance remained a mystery. We only know that two days after his disappearance the ''Corriere de Trieste'' contained the following account of
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=“An accident has happened at the mills at S – , which is as horrible as it is mysterious. How it occurred or who was the person of the unfortunate victim has not yet been discovered. It seems that yesterday at noon, while the workmen were at their dinner, terrible yells and cries of distress were heard, coming from the engine-room. The engineer hastened to the place and found the floor covered with blood and shreds of clothing. The walls were bespattered with brains and human entrails clung to the great cog-wheel; but of the human being that thus perished nothing was found except unrecognizable remnants, not enough to establish his identity.
 
“None of the workmen are missing and it therefore seems that some stranger must have entered by the private door into the engine-room. The place is quite dark and the floor slippery. It may be that he fell and that his coat was caught in the wheel. If so, he must have been dragged slowly but irresistibly into death, and this is still more probable on account of the terrible cries he uttered before he was torn to pieces. It is not explained how the unknown man could enter the place unobserved, as the engineer denies the charge of having left the door open and one of the firemen swears that he saw that it was locked.”|data=“{{Style S-Small capitals|A fearful accident.}}”}}
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=332}}
 
Thus the mystery remained unexplained. Conchita did not read newspapers. Pancho may have heard of the accident: but what if he did? Such things are nothing remarkable; accidents happen often. They are talked about for an hour and forgotten the next.
 
Conchita remained at the inn. A pocket-book which Mr. Hagard had left, contained a sufficient sum to pay her expenses for several months and as to what had become of “Mr. Muggins,” she did not care to know. She had no desire for his return, for she never really loved him; she was only bound to him by some mysterious power. In the pure and exhilarating air that came from the mountains, fragrant with the odour of pines and mixing with the balmy breeze from the ocean, her health improved rapidly, and in proportion as it improved, she felt as if the clouds around her were growing thinner and pressing less heavily upon her heart. She tried to remember her past life, before she became “Mrs. Smith”; but there was not a single clue to solve the mystery. It was as if her mind was imprisoned; but at last the deliverance came.
 
Visitors to the Friaul during the spring and summer of 188 – may remember having frequently seen a stranger, a pale lady with dark hair and eyes, and invariably dressed in black, taking solitary walks along the seashore, or sitting on some prominent cliff in some secluded spot overlooking the sea. Was it the awakening of memories of olden times that attracted Conchita to the ocean shore, or is there something soothing in the rumbling of the waves, that lulls the troubled waters of the soul? For days Conchita strolled along the coast, leaving the inn at an early hour of the morning and returning at night; seeking the most deserted places, and when some stranger approached, flying like a frightened roe.
 
Once, while watching the play of the waves, Conchita found a double shell consisting of two parts; one of oval shape, and out of it grew another in the form of a tulip. She knew that she had seen such shells before and picked it up. She knew that once before, at some time in the past, she had been in a similar place, where there were cliffs and rocks, seals and ''barnacle'' shells. She strained her will to remember, and suddenly the light broke through the clouds; the darkness disappeared and she knew who she had been before she became Mrs. Smith. Gradually all the memories of her past life returned. She knew that she was Conchita and that Pancho had sailed for Africa in search of the Mysterious Brotherhood. She remembered Juana and Mrs. Wells and how she was “magnetized” by Mr. Smith; but she could not remember having married him. Then it was that for the first time since her husband’s departure Conchita began to weep; but her tears were tears of joy, full of gratitude for that power which had enabled her to find again her old former self.
 
What was now to be done? Should she write to Africa or to San Francisco, or return immediately to America? Then she remembered that the money which had been left by Mr. Smith was exhausted, in fact she was already in debt to the landlord. What was to be done? Her health had returned and she was as strong and beautiful as before. If necessary she could do manual labour until she received letters from home. But her situation required immediate attention. Then it was that her former unbounded faith in divine providence asserted itself, and full of confidence that something would happen to show her which way to turn, she went back to her room.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=333}}
 
It may have been due to the direction of divine providence or to some other inferior cause, or perhaps a mere coincidence, that just at that time a woman from Vienna happened to be at the same inn. “Miss Flora,” for this was the name by which she was known, was a corpulent woman of middle age, with traces of former beauty. She was dressed in great style and wore a profusion of jewelry. This woman was struck with Conchita’s loveliness and found an opportunity to make her acquaintance.
 
For several days Miss Flora remained at the inn and gained Conchita’s confidence. The latter told her about her circumstances and that she was waiting for letters from home.
 
“You might as well go with me to Vienna and wait for your letters there,” said Miss Flora. “Vienna is such a nice place and I will give you a room in my house.”
 
“I am already indebted to the landlord here,” said Conchita, “and I must wait for funds before I leave.”
 
“Oh!” said Miss Flora, “do not trouble yourself about that. The landlord told me that you owe him about twenty florins. It is a mere trifle; I will pay it for you with pleasure.”
 
Conchita was surprised at this generous offer. There was something repulsive about Miss Flora; but was it not evident that divine providence had sent her. Would it not be rejecting the aid of God to reject such an offer? She therefore accepted it and said:
 
“You are very kind indeed! How can I ever hope to repay you for your generosity?”
 
“Don’t mention it,” said Miss Flora. “It is nothing. I will do all I can to make you comfortable. Of course you cannot receive company with these old black clothes of yours; but I am going to get you a fine dress, to make you look like a lady.”
 
“Never mind,” answered Conchita. “I do not wish to receive company. If you will only let me have some small room, where I am in nobody’s way and where I can remain until I hear from home, I shall be perfectly satisfied.”
 
“Don’t trouble about that,” said Miss Flora. “We will talk it all over by-and-bye.”
 
Conchita left the inn with Miss Flora, and when they went away all the occupants of the hotel from the head waiter down to the chambermaid and the porter stood at the door looking after Conchita and her companion.
 
“It is a pity!” said the porter.
 
The head waiter shrugged his shoulders.
 
The chambermaid said nothing, she only giggled.
 
Conchita noticed the ironical smiles and the staring looks; but she attributed them to the strange contrast which existed between her appearance and that of her companion; for while the latter was dressed as if she were going to the opera, Conchita’s dress was of the plainest kind, threadbare and dilapidated.
 
They boarded the train, which swiftly bore them through one of the most picturesque countries of the world, the beautiful Styria; while the sun was sinking behind the mountain tops and the evening glories faded away. The night which followed was dark; but while its gloom rested upon the outside world, joy reigned in the heart of Conchita. She had not the least suspicion of {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=334}}foul play, but saw in Miss Flora her redeemer, an instrument of the kindness of divine providence. This lady, a stranger, had been sent to her at the very time when she was in the greatest need of help. She saw now plainly that the world was not so bad as it appeared to be, and that love, charity, and benevolence still exist among mankind. Her heart felt the deepest gratitude towards the unknown Creator who watches over even the least of his creatures. She prayed silently and fervently, and after that she took Miss Flora’s hand and kissed it reverently.
 
It was early in the morning when they arrived in the ''Kaiserstadt.'' They took a coach and went to Miss Flora’s residence, which was in the central part of the city. The noise produced by the rattling of the wheels over the stone-paved street sounded harshly in Conchita’s ears and she almost wished herself back in the tranquility of the country. For some unexplained reason a heavy weight seemed to rest upon her soul, and as the carriage stopped in the narrow alley at the place of her destination, an indescribable horror seemed to creep over her. They descended, Miss Flora opened the door and made her guest ascend three flights of stairs, where she led her into a room.
 
“This will be your room, my dear,” she said, “and now I advise you to go to bed, so that you will look bright and refreshed this evening. You must be very tired, and as it is still early, you may have a good sleep before breakfast.”
 
Conchita embraced Miss Flora and told her she would obey. She then undressed and went to bed, for she was very much fatigued from having travelled all night. Nevertheless she could not sleep for a long time. She laid awake and looked around in the room. It was richly furnished; but showed little taste in its arrangement. The walls were ornamented with some cheap chromos representing nude females. One represented Diana coming out of the bath, another one Leda with the swan, and the centre-piece was according to the inscription which it bore, a representation of how pope Alexander used to amuse himself. Wondering about Miss Flora’s singular taste, Conchita fell asleep.<ref name="v5-p334-n1">Owing to a circumstance beyond the editor’s control, a large portion of this chapter does not appear in this magazine. It will be found complete in book-form, in which it will very shortly appear in America and England. – [{{Style S-Small capitals|Ed.}}]</ref>
 
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The evening wore on, and Conchita thought over her present condition, comparing it with her past life. She had always believed in God; but how had her implicit trust in divine providence served her? She had always followed the impulses of her heart, and to what did it lead? Her belief that God or some other person would do for her that which she ought to have done herself, had landed her in a house of prostitution. She therefore resolved henceforth not to trust to any external aid, but to take hold with her own hands of the helm, and steer the ship of her life.
 
It had grown dark. Conchita put on the dress which Miss Flora had left; she had no other choice. It was a ball dress cut low, without sleeves, but with laces and trimmings. Cautiously she opened the door and peeped into the hall. A flood of light came from the lower floor. This was not an appropriate time to attempt an escape. She closed the door and waited again until late in the night. Then she tried again. She stepped into the hall, and heard the {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=335}}sound of a piano and the patter of dancing feet. She cautiously descended the stairs to the second flat, and found herself in another hall, from which a door led into the room where they were dancing. If she could only pass that door unobserved she might reach the stairs that led to the first floor and be safe. Gathering all her courage, she made a rush forward; but at the same moment the door was opened and a man appeared upon the threshold. Seeing Conchita, he threw his arms around her and dragged her into the room. A moment afterwards she found herself in the midst of a crowd of half-drunken men and women. They all looked up in surprise and the dance stopped.
 
“Madame Flora,” exclaimed the man, as he held on to Conchita, “why have you been hiding away this girl? She is the jewel of your harem.”
 
“The jewel is not yet polished enough to be sold,” answered Flora, “she is a wild cat, she has to be tamed. She will make a lovely pet if we can teach her good manners.”
 
“Ho, ho!” laughed the man, “we will begin the lesson right away,” and addressing the musician, he called out: “Go ahead with your valse.”
 
“Let me go,” hissed Conchita; but the music began again and she was pulled around the room a few times. Her movements excited great laughter. The men and women crowded around her, for it was to them an unusual sight to see a woman dance against her will. Some people who were drinking brandy at a side table, rose to their feet to see the fun, and inadvertently overturned the table. Bottles and glasses fell to the floor, and the brandy was spilled over Conchita’s dress.
 
This created a moment of confusion. Conchita’s partner stopped and turned around to see what was the matter, loosening his hold of Conchita’s arms. This gave her a chance to tear herself from his grasp and to run out of the room. She was immediately followed by the crowd. She flew towards the stairs that led to the lower floor and was about to descend, when she saw some men coming up. They evidently wanted to stop her; for one of them spread out his arms to prevent her passing. At that moment she perceived an open window at the head of the stairs, and with the agility of a tigress she jumped upon the sill and threw herself out of the window. When the inmates of the house descended the stairs and emerged into the street, they found the bleeding body of Conchita upon the pavement.
 
<center>CHAPTER XVIII.</center>
 
<center>NEW DISCOVERIES.</center>
 
We must now ask the reader to return with us about ten months in time, and look after Pancho whom we have left at Venice in search of Mr. Smith.
 
Having become convinced of the futility of his attempts to find Conchita, and having cured his curiosity to his hearts content, he retired once more within his own soul, trying to find the truth within himself, and the more he succeeded in collecting his thoughts within that interior chamber, the more did he become convinced that man has within himself an infallible interior guide, an unknown and invisible “Master” and mysterious Brother such as had been described in the “Book of Mysteries.” He also found that if one pays strict {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=336}}attention to the admonitions of that guide, his voice which at first is only heard like a faint whisper may develope into a source of positive knowledge, and his light, which is at first seen only like a distant star, will at last be seen like a sun illuminating the dark chambers of the mind. He now knew – not because he had read it in books, but from self observation – that material man cannot develop himself spiritually, nor give to himself that which he does not possess; but that he must be developed by a teacher who is a spirit, and that no spirit is nearer to man than the divine Spirit whose temple is Man, and who has his sanctuary within the centre of one’s own inner self, but whose presence cannot be demonstrated to the sceptical reasoner, nor be perceived by those who live within the dark clouds of matter, and whose judgement is perverted by doubt and denial.
 
He now began to take lessons in “practical occultism,” that is to say, he tried to habituate himself to recognize the true value of all things, and not to put any higher estimate upon a thing than that which it actually deserves. This he found to be a most difficult undertaking, because the earthly parts of the soul of man have their roots in the realm of matter and cause him to cling to that which is earthly and sensual. There are a thousand invisible strings by which the world of sense attracts the soul that wishes to rise above it, and the wings which carry the consciousness into the higher regions of thought are at first easily fatigued. But Pancho’s strength increased by his daily practical exercises, and at last he found within himself that magic power, the “Will,” by which he could lift one of the curtains that hide the interior world, although there were still many more curtains to be lifted for him – not by the hands of another – but by his own. He then found, as his interior perceptive power increased, that the interior world is just as real to the inner senses as the external world is real to the outward perceptions, that the outer as well as the inner world were both the products of the spirit who was their creator, and that the former contained forms of great beauty, which were of a more permanent character than those of the latter.
 
He saw that thoughts are substantial things, rendered objective to the mental perception by the power of the will, and that they are just as “material” on the plane on which they exist, as trees and rocks are “material” on the external plane. He found that everybody who had the power to call a picture up in his mind was actually exercising a magic power, by which a thought becomes objective to the mind, a thing which by a more developed will, may be impressed even at a distance upon the mind of another who is receptive to thought.
 
All these things, which are so absurdedly simple, that it is almost ridiculous to mention them, and which might be known to all men, if their minds were not thrown into confusion by the complicated vagaries of metaphysical speculators, Pancho learned – not because he had some scientific authority to inform him about it – but because he acquired the power to perceive what was taking place in his own mind. He looked within himself, and thought his own thoughts instead of thinking the thoughts of another person; and he perceived that the universe is an instrument full of divine harmony which however can only be realized by him who is himself of a harmonious mind. He saw that every form in the world of matter and mind is, so to say, a string upon that instrument, constituting for itself a compound instrument that ought to sound in unison with {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=337}}the whole. He saw how vibrations of thought started in one place, produced corresponding vibrations in similarly attuned instruments in other parts of the world, and it became clear to him that a spiritual thought of great power, emanating from one person, may affect and be expressed by not only one, but a thousand “Talking images” in different parts of the world, even if the forms from which these thoughts emanate, and the forms which receive them are seperated by thousands of miles. For, in the realm of mind, there are not the same material obstacles as in the world of matter, and the vibrations of thought impelled by will may travel like the vibrations of the light of the rising sun.
 
It seems that as physical man has his relationships in the sensual world, and sympathizing friends and relatives to whom he is especially attracted, so likewise there are relationships between harmoniously attuned souls, and affinities existing between similarly constituted minds. Thus mutually harmonious minds may communicate with each other while the physical bodies of such persons are resting in sleep; provided that the soul has become sufficiently self-conscious to realize its own existence during the sleep of the physical form. Cases are known in which persons have visited in their dreams strange places, and communicated with other persons whom they had never seen, and that they afterwards, while awake, met with such places and persons on the external plane.
 
Who knows to what part of the universe his soul may be attracted, and with what beings it may be in communication, while his terrestrial form rests in unconscious sleep? If, after awakening, he has no distinct recollection of the nature of his inner experiences during the sleep of the body; this does not prove that no such experiences took place. It merely proves that the external activity of the soul was at rest, and that the mind received no material impressions to register by means of the material brain; but occasionally it may happen that the external and internal states of consciousness are blended together, and then the nature of our inner experiences may come to the external understanding of the mind.
 
We will not try the patience of the reader by recording the various visions which Pancho experienced in his inner consciousness, visions which grew more and more vivid and real as he succeeded in withdrawing his attention and desires from the external world. But we will state that there often appeared to him in such “dreams” a stranger of noble aspect, a man whom he had never seen, dressed in white garments and wearing upon his breast a golden cross; but whenever he made an effort to speak with that person, his external consciousness returned, and the vision disappeared. Whether or not his soul was in communication with him when his body was asleep, Pancho could not say, because on awakening he had no recollection of it. Only once he remembered having dreamed that he went with that man to a room filled with many curious things, with scientific instruments, bottles and books, from which he concluded that this man was an Alchemist. He could plainly remember the room. There were some curious pictures hanging around the walls; one especially was very remarkable. It was a masterpiece of some artist and dark from age. It represented the battle of the archangel Michael with the dragon of selfishness. As this story proceeds, we shall see that this dream was not a product of fancy; but at present it is our duty to call attention to another line of events.
 
There is no doubt in our mind that some of our readers have become interested {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=338}}in the fate of Mr. Puffer, whose career towards adeptship was sadly interrupted by his incarceration in a lunatic asylum.
 
Pancho likewise felt sympathy for the man and after some delay and trouble he finally obtained permission to visit him in the place where he was confined under observation by medical men.
 
The asylum was quite interesting. There were some curious cases among the patients. There was, for instance, an eloquent preacher who was in the habit of going out at night upon the graveyard and preaching sermons to the corpses, although the corpses could not understand what he said. Another patient imagined himself to be dead, while all the time he enjoyed a good appetite; but would not rise from the coffin in which he had made his bed; another who had been a philosopher, talked incessantly in a learned manner about things of which he knew absolutely nothing, and there was a number of people who wanted to reform the world without even being able to reform themselves. In fact the inhabitants of that asylum looked very much like the inhabitants of the world outside; the difference between the insanity of the former and that of the latter being only a difference in the degree in which the disease manifested, itself.
 
Dr. Sellerio, the medical director of the asylum, cordially received Pancho and heard his request.
 
“There is no doubt,” he said, “that Mr. Puffer, or, as he calls himself, Mr. Brahm, is completely insane. Fortunately his insanity seems to be of a harmless character, and we may be able to send him back to his friends. The poor man’s brain has been entirely deranged and its forces brought out of equilibrium by the reading of books on magnetism and spiritualism. It is a shame that in this enlightened age any apparently sane person should believe in such nonsense, and that otherwise intelligent people countenance occultism instead of frowning it down. I deeply regret that the authorities of the state and the church are not able or willing to suppress all kinds of occult literature.”
 
“It is, indeed, very unfortunate,” answered Pancho, “for merely theorizing, and speculating about things of which one has no practical experience is very likely to disorder the imagination and to derange the mind.”
 
“There is only one rational spot left in Mr. Puffer,” continued the director, “namely that he agrees that there is no soul. He imagines himself to be the god of the universe; but he is reasonable enough not to believe in a soul.”
 
“Do you then not believe yourself in a soul?” asked Pancho.
 
“I am a scientist,” answered Sellerio, “and science is proud of knowing nothing about such things. If a soul did exist, we should know it.”
 
“Nevertheless,” said Pancho, “I have seen testimonials in the possession of Captain Bumpkins, written by Lord Fitznoodle and Lady Partington, which certify that the soul exists.”
 
“These people are all deluded,” replied the director. “All anatomical, physiological and pathological researches have failed to lead to the discovery of a soul, either in the pineal gland or anywhere else. Such a belief is a superstition, which like the belief in ghosts and spirits, belongs to the dark ages and has fortunately been abandoned by all recognized authorities. A belief in the soul is sufficient to stamp him who is convicted of it as extremely ignorant, if not downright insane.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=28|p=339}}
 
“By the term ‘soul,’” explained Pancho, “I refer to the power of the divine spirit in man.”
 
“Whoever heard of a divine spirit in man?” exclaimed Sellerio. “I do not believe in spirits. Nobody believes in spirits except dreamers and cranks. I am a scientist. I want facts, sir, facts! I want facts such as I can see and handle. I have not yet seen anything divine.”
 
“How do you classify a belief in Divinity?” asked Pancho.
 
“Emotional insanity,” at once replied the director. “Sometimes it is spontaneous, at other times it seems to be inherited, sporadic or epidemic. Occasionally we find it associated with hallucination of sight and hearing; frequently it is the result of an abnormal development of the occipital portion of the brain.”
 
“There seems to be many people affected with it,” said Pancho.
 
“Fortunately for science,” answered Sellerio, “there is an abundance of pathological material for the study of such cases; nor would it be well to cure them. A belief in a God is a form of insanity which has to be tolerated at present; because it serves to keep up order in the state and the church. When all men have become thoroughly scientific, such a superstition will be unnecessary.”
 
“Then you consider all kinds of idealism as emotional insanity?” asked Pancho.
 
“Most assuredly I do,” said the director, “and the quickest way to cure it is a good dose of Ipecac.”
 
They went to Mr. Puffer’s cell and found him sitting cross-legged in Oriental fashion upon the table.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=419}}
 
“How do you do, Mr. Puffer?” said Pancho.
 
“Don’t call me Puffer,” said the patient. “I am Brahm. Puffer is merely the name of that illusive and evanescent personality which I created for the purpose of manifesting myself. This personality has now attained the four states of knowledge and needs no more books. First, it has arrived at the conviction that it knows everything that can possibly be known. Secondly, it believes that there is nothing more to learn. Thirdly, it sees that all impediments to its knowing everything have been destroyed, and fourthly, that it is now in possession of perfect knowledge.”
 
“Then,” said Pancho, “if you know everything, please tell me what has become of the Talking Image and where is my wife?”
 
“Alas,” answered the unfortunate man, “I know it very well; but I cannot make my personality understand it.”
 
“Then it seems,” said Pancho, “that your personality has not yet attained full knowledge, and that you are Brahm merely in your imagination.”
 
“In my capacity as Brahm,” said the patient, “I do not care a straw for that personality which they call Mr. Puffer, and do not want to have anything to do with it. In fact I now know that this man ‘Puffer’ is a great simpleton, and it would be advantageous for him if you could get him out of this place.”
 
Pancho promised to attend to it.
 
“We would not keep you here,” said Sellerio, “if you would speak rationally instead of imagining yourself to be all sorts of things.”
 
“Brahm is nothing,” solemnly replied Mr. Puffer.
 
“Just listen to him,” exclaimed Sellerio. “First he says that he is Brahm and then he says Brahm is nothing. How can we let a man loose upon the community, if he talks such arrant nonsense?”
 
“He means to say,” explained Pancho, “that Brahm is not a thing; but that universal principle from which originates the power that produces all things in the universe. It is often very difficult to express such ideas correctly, while an incorrect expression always gives rise to very serious misunderstandings.”
 
Then Mr. Puffer lifted his hand and solemnly spoke the following words:
 
“Everything is nothing and nothing is everything. I am Brahm and Brahm is nothing and I am the All; but the All does not exist. I am Brahm who has created that illusion called the world for the purpose of deluding mankind. There are no bodies; that which is called a body is merely an appearance; there is no soul; for the power of the body perishes at the time of its death. What is called the soul is nothing but the active force or attraction in man, which when he dies must die with him. All nature is created out of myself and I am nothing; but out of nothing nothing can be produced. Nirvana is nothingness and it requires a pure soul of nothingness to live in it.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=420}}
 
“I think,” said the director, “it is now time to administer our Ipecac.”
 
They left, while Mr. Puffer was still talking and expounding his theories.
 
“He is decidedly getting worse,” said the director. “He begins to talk about a soul living in nothingness.”
 
“I am sorry for him,” said Pancho. “He was a very amusing fellow; but there will be no light in occultism for outside investigators before those people learn how to correctly express what they mean.”
 
Pancho left the asylum and went to his room. There sitting down at his table he took up a sheet of paper and began to write a letter to Sellerio, explaining his views about Mr. Puffer; but he soon discontinued it and leaving the unfinished letter upon the table he threw himself upon a lounge thinking which one of the two was more insane, Mr. Puffer or Dr. Sellerio. They were both deluded. The former revelled in his imagination, the latter was rooted firmly in his own ignorance; both clung to the opinions which they had formed – not on the basis of direct perception of internal truths – but from eternal observation and the reading of books. Each imagined that he knew, while neither had real knowledge.
 
“External observation,” said Pancho to himself, “does not directly reveal internal truths; logic may err, real knowledge results only from direct perception and understanding. Books are useful and necessary adjuncts for those who wish to attain real knowledge and who have not the power to perceive internal truths; but to those who have attained the power to see the truth as it is, books describing what others believed about it are as useless as crutches to a sound person able to walk without them.”
 
While meditating upon such subjects he entered into the interior condition and his external consciousness faded away, while that of his soul was fully alive. Suddenly he saw himself surrounded by a bright and rosy light, similar to that which he had seen at the time of his interview with the Image, and the stranger whom he had seen before in his dreams stood before his interior vision and spake the following words:
 
“The Talking Image is in imminent danger. The vultures of destruction are assembling around it, desiring to tear it to pieces to find out the cause of its divine inspiration and the power that enables it to speak. Unless it is saved from the dissection by which it is threatened, the instrument which the sages have prepared to give superior information to this sinful world and to lead mankind up to a higher region of thought, will be destroyed. If you wish to save it, hasten to its relief.”
 
The apparition then faded away and Pancho “awoke;” doubting whether or not this vision had been the product of his own imagination. Where was the Image, and if it was in danger, where should he go to save it?
 
He arose and his glance fell upon the unfinished letter upon the table, and there upon the space not written over by him, he saw a strange handwriting, in which were written the identical words spoken to him by the stranger, and moreover the address of the present owner of the Image was added, which proved to be that of a judge in a little Polish town near Krakau. The letter was signed by “An agent of the Mysterious Brotherhood.”
 
This was surely a true “occult letter,” at least it had been written by some occult means. We will not enter into metaphysical speculations to find some {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=421}}plausible theory by which might be explained how it could have been produced. We can see no possible advantage in attempting to persuade the sceptic to believe in something of which he has no knowledge and no experience. We, therefore, leave it to those who like to amuse themselves in this manner, to guess whether or not our account can be true, and, if so, whether there may be persons that can manipulate thoughts and project their images upon material substances; whether the ideas were first impressed upon his own brain, there formed into sentences and then projected out upon the paper by the power of a superior will; or whether they were alchemically precipitated by means of an Elemental; or whether Pancho during his ecstatic condition arose and himself wrote unconsciously the letter; whether it was done by a good or evil spirit, or by some impossible trickery. All such questions we leave to those to guess about who are inclined to pass their time in that manner; to the experienced Alchemist these things are no mystery and he needs no instruction about it. As to Pancho, he was neither astonished nor surprised; he knew that there is a bridge leading from the “subjective” to the “objective” realm of phenomena, and that to the untutored savage the writing of an ordinary letter is not less astonishing than the manipulating of “spiritual” substances is to those who do not know that such things exist. His own intuition told him that the contents of the letter were true, and he made up his mind to go and to save the Image from destruction by the hands of ignorant “science.”
 
On that very evening Pancho left Venice for Vienna.
 
The night was dark. The train after leaving the plains of Italy entered into the mountain regions of the Alps, winding its way upwards in snake-like contortions, creeping up on inclined planes and through narrow gorges and valleys. Several tunnels and bridges were passed and it approached the highest point of the mountains, to descend again into the valleys.
 
Pancho had ample time for meditation. He thought about the uselessness of destructive science and how their deluded scientific people are like small boys, who destroy a valuable watch to see what produces the ticking. They, in their ignorance, imagine that they can solve the mystery of sound by breaking the instrument, or discover the secret of light by smashing the lamp. How is such a proceeding more absurd that to imagine that the cause of conscious intelligence and life can be found by dissecting the organism in which these powers become manifest?
 
This train of thought led Pancho to think of the nature of life. He perceived that it was not a product of the forms which it inhabits; but of a universal principle which by its activity produces living forms. As the light of the sun renders objects luminous, likewise the divine principle in nature made those objects, which were adapted to such a purpose, living and conscious and as the light of the sun, after disappearing from the horizon, leaves some objects dark, while others have the power to retain it and remain luminous for a while; likewise the principle of life departs from the physical form at its death, but there are some elements belonging to the soul, though still of an earthly nature, that may remain for a while living and conscious even after the self-conscious spirit has departed from them.
 
To illustrate this truth, Pancho’s interior guide opened his inner senses and he saw himself in the spirit in the midst of a graveyard. The earth offered no {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=422}}obstacle to the perceptive faculty of his soul, and he could see into the habitations of those silent hermits whom the world believes all to be peaceful and dead. Then he saw that not all the tombs were entirely dark; but in many the ethereal counterparts bound to the corpse were still illuminated by a remnant of consciousness left by the departed spirit and endowing them with sensation. Many of the graves were thus illuminated by the murky glow of passion and unsatisfied desires, while the entities to which these remnants belonged were tortured by evil memories, useless remorse for past misdeeds, and by the evil spectres which their perverted imagination had called into existence. There were suicides that had not outlived their allotted time upon the earth and who were still bound to their own disintegrating corpses, which made them suffer. True, enough, they did not feel physical heat or cold or suffer from the narrowness of the grave in which the corpse was confined; they did not suffocate from the want of air; but they could not breathe the free atmosphere of the heavenly spirit; they were like persons in a dream suffering from some horrible nightmare. Their bodies still exhibited a phosphorescent glow of some remnant of animal consciousness which caused them agonies, and thus Pancho saw that the nightmare, called terrestrial life, may project its horrid illusions even far beyond the portals of death to the other side of the tomb.
 
He had been so deep in his meditations that he had not noticed the stopping of the train and the entrance of a man into the carriage; but now he heard the voice of a stranger say, as if in response to his own thoughts:
 
“The most fortunate thing in life is that we do not know its true nature.”
 
Pancho looked up, and for a moment he believed that he saw before him the identical form of that person whom he had seen in his visions; there was the same high forehead, the dark brown hair, the Roman nose, the finely-cut mouth, and the curiously-trimmed beard. But, no, it could not be the same individual seen in his dreams, for while the latter was of an extremely refined and ethereal, if not divine, aspect, the former looked coarse and material. He seemed to be a labouring man, for his clothes were soiled, he carried an axe, a bundle of blankets, and a travelling-bag, and Pancho immediately dismissed the idea of his being the man seen in his dreams. In fact he was somewhat annoyed by the intrusion.
 
“I hope that these bundles are not in your way?” said the stranger, piling them upon the seat.
 
“There is room enough,” somewhat gruffly answered Pancho.
 
The train moved again, and for a while they rode together in silence, Pancho lighting a cigar for want of something better to occupy himself with. After a while the stranger asked:
 
“Have you any whiskey with you?”
 
“No,” replied Pancho, somewhat displeased with the request. “I am no friend of whiskey.”
 
“It is sometimes very useful to have it,” said the man.
 
Pancho looked in disgust at the stranger. If there was anything he despised, it was the sight of a drunkard. How was it possible that he could, even for a moment, mistake a whiskey-drinker for the ideal of his dreams?
 
Pancho made no reply.
 
After a little pause, the stranger again spoke out and said:
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=423}}
 
“Whiskey in a cold night like this is good to warm the blood and keep up the spirits.”
 
“I should think,” answered Pancho, “that you have enough blankets to keep you warm, and that for once you could get along for a little while without whiskey.”
 
“These blankets will presently be needed,” said the man, “as we will have to step out of this car.”
 
“Not I,” replied Pancho. “I am going to Vienna.”
 
“You will not go to Vienna by this train.”
 
“Are you going to prevent me?” asked Pancho, sarcastically.
 
“No,” said the man; “but we are going to have a serious accident.”
 
Pancho looked up in surprise. Was he in company of a madman? What if this fellow were to take a fit and become unmanageable? Pancho made a motion to secure to himself the axe.
 
“This axe and these blankets,” said the stranger, unconcernedly, “I took with me because I foresaw that we shall need them, and as there will be a number of people severely wounded, I wish I had brought some stimulants with me. I forgot it, being in a hurry.”
 
“Did you dream that we are going to have an accident?” asked Pancho.
 
“I did not dream it, I saw it,” answered the stranger. “Between the next station and the one after that something is going to break, and the engine, with three of the cars, will tumble down over a precipice. Nothing will happen to this car. It is the fourth, and will remain on the track.”
 
“For heaven’s sake,” exclaimed Pancho, “If you know all these things, why do you not stop the train, and speak to the conductor?”
 
So saying, he took up the axe, and was going to break with the handle the glass that covers the electric button, by which a signal may be given to stop the train in cases of imminent danger.
 
“Just keep still,” said the stranger. “What will you tell the conductor? Do you want us to be laughed at and fined for stopping the train? Although I have foreseen the accident, I cannot tell the exact nature of the cause of the danger. If you say that we are going to have an accident, and you cannot give any intelligible reason for it, you will not be believed. After the accident has taken place, you will be arrested, because it will be said that if you had not something to do with its cause, you could not have known of it. Moreover, if the accident could be prevented and were not to take place, I could not have seen it happen. I can only foresee things which exist in the future, and not those which are non-existent.”
 
Pancho saw the force of this logic. He remembered a case in which a clairvoyant had correctly described the place in which some stolen money was hidden, and how, after the property was recovered, the seer was imprisoned for complicity in the theft, because it was said that he could not have known the hiding-place, if he had not assisted the thief.
 
“Is it then impossible,” he asked, “to prevent things which are thus foreseen?”
 
“As impossible,” answered the stranger, “as to make undone anything that has happened in the past.”
 
“Did you see me in your vision?” asked Pancho.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=424}}
 
“Yes,” answered the stranger, “I saw you aiding me in attending to the wounded.”
 
“Then,” said Pancho, “if I were to leave the train at the next station, your vision would not have been true.”
 
“You will not leave it,” replied the man; “for if you were to leave it, I would have foreseen it too.”
 
“You are right; I shall remain.”
 
He now regarded his companion more clearly, and as he looked with the eye of the soul below the rough external appearance of the stranger, he saw that he was undoubtedly the man seen in his dreams, although the outward shell resembled the spiritual man no more than an unfinished model in clay is equal to the perfected marble statue, coming from the hands of the master artist. He then asked the man whether he remembered that they had met before in the spirit, and what he knew about the Talking Image. To this the stranger replied:
 
“There are many things which the soul of man may accomplish, while the body is asleep, and which we do not remember when awake. Every state of consciousness has its own modes of perception, and its own tablets to record past experiences. Animal man remembers his animal experiences; the spirit in its spiritual state remembers that which occurs when conscious of divine things. If we could raise our consciousness up to that part of our being which is immortal, we should also partake of its memory and recollect our past lives upon this and other planets. As to the Talking Image, I have heard of it, but know at present nothing of its whereabouts; it is quite a curiosity, but in some respects not more so than other persons, because I regard every person who does not create his own thoughts, as being merely a Talking Image, through which universal thought is expressed, or as a crucible, in which the essences, principles, and ideas existing in the world are mixed and purified, calcinated, amalgamated, sublimated and refined, until there results the true gold of spirituality, self-existent, pure and immortal.”
 
The train now arrived at a station near the highest altitude of the pass. After a few minutes it began to move again, and soon the rapidity of its motion indicated that they were on the descending slope of the mountain. In the meantime a storm arose and the wind blew with such fury that it threatened to overthrow the train. Perhaps ten minutes passed away in silence, when the stranger exclaimed:
 
“Hold on to the cushions, sir!”
 
Pancho did as directed. At that moment a terrible shock occurred, which caused the carriage to shake. At the same time a crash and a rolling noise was heard, followed by cries of distress. Pancho and the stranger went out of the car and a fearful sight met their eyes. They were standing at the brink of a precipice, while below them, in a gorge, was the engine, from which rushed sparks of fire and hissing steam. Three passenger coaches were lying in a heap. The rising moon threw a ghastly light over the scene.
 
“Let us be quick!” said the stranger. “The coals of the engine will set fire to the cars.”
 
They descended cautiously. Already one of the coaches had begun to burn, and now Pancho saw for what purpose the stranger had brought the axe with {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=29|p=425}}him; for with the dexterity of an expert he cut a hole in the side of the car and extricated a woman whose body had been imprisoned between broken splinters and pieces of wood.
 
We will spare the readers a description of the heartrending details that followed upon this accident; some of them may have read accounts of it at the time when a train was overturned by the force of the ''Bora'', whose destructive power is well known on the ''Karst.'' There were a few persons killed and many severely wounded.
 
The stranger, aided by Pancho, rendered the necessary services to the injured, and made them as comfortable as possible until such aid as could be obtained at the nearest town arrived at the place of the accident. At last another train arrived and Pancho continued his voyage. The stranger remained, but gave to Pancho his address in Vienna.
 
“You will easily find the place,” he said, “it is an odd-looking house and there is a cross with a rose in the centre sculptured over the door.”
 
Pancho wanted to ask some more questions; but the whistle sounded, the train began to move, and soon the place of the accident was out of sight.
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=491}}
 
<center>CHAPTER XIX.</center>
 
<center>THE CONSILIUM.<ref name="v5-p491-n1">This chapter is abbreviated and the last left out for want of space. The reader will find them in full in book form, which is forthcoming. – [{{Style S-Small capitals|Ed.}}]</ref></center>
 
{{Style S-Small capitals|There}} was another delay of two hours at the next station, where Pancho had to wait for the regular train. He made use of the time to telegraph to the owner of the Image, requesting him to have the dissection postponed. The answer came that the Image was still alive, but that the dissection could not be postponed; as to do so would cause considerable inconvenience to the medical gentlemen, whose time was very precious, and some of whom were coming from considerable distances to assist at the dissection. Cursing the benighted ignorance of the medical fraternity, Pancho resumed his voyage. He travelled all night. Early in the morning he arrived at Krakau, where he took the stage for B-----, the place where Mr. Snivelinsky, the owner of the Image, resided. The sun in his glory had already risen above the horizon when Pancho arrived at the place of his destination. It was the day appointed for the dissection of the Image, and Pancho congratulated himself that he was not too late. He hurried to the house of the judge and found him in the back yard feeding his favourite hogs. The judge was dressed in a flowery morning gown and nightcap, and smoking a pipe of enormous dimensions. A joyful smile was upon his countenance as he watched his pets devouring their gruel; for Snivelinsky was a lover-of hogs. There were large and small swine, and especially one great porker of whom the judge was especially fond, and who received the largest share of his caresses.
 
“Just look at him,” he said, after Pancho had introduced himself and stated his business. “What a fine fellow he is! I envy his appetite and his happiness. He has no cares and no troubles. We call him ‘Philosopher’ because he is not at all particular about what he eats. Nevertheless, he always gets the best of everything. We all love him and treat him as if he were one of our own family. We feed him on the best of slops because we know that he will not be ungrateful; for next Christmas he will furnish us with just as fine sausages as his father did last year. His father was just as fine a fellow as he, and he bore a striking resemblance to him. He made us enough pickled pork to last us all winter.” Here the judge smacked his lips, as in anticipation of the good things he expected from the gratitude of his porker.
 
After he had finished his eulogies on the porker, Pancho took the liberty of asking about the condition of the Talking Image.
 
A frown appeared upon the noble brow of the judge. “It is all an infernal humbug,” he said. “I took the Image into my house, expecting that it would be a prophetess and of some service to me. At least I expected that it would {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=492}}answer questions in a dignified, polite, and ladylike manner; but I am sorry to say the prophetess has turned into a termagant. But I am going to make an end of all this. To-day it shall be handed over to the medical executioners, and we shall see what kind of devils are inside of it.”
 
Thereupon Pancho attempted to explain to Mr. Snivelinsky the constitution of the Image, and that it was merely a living echo for people’s innermost thoughts rendering their own states of feeling in uttered language, in about the same sense as one might translate the language of music into speech. He told the judge some of his own experience with the statue, to prove to him that the Image would sometimes echo the thoughts of a person, of which the latter himself was unconscious, but which nevertheless existed in the deepest recesses of his mind.
 
“We shall soon see about that,” said the judge. “The doctors will be here in a few minutes, and they will make short work of its constitution.”
 
“I am sorry,” answered Pancho, “that the doctors will have to be disappointed, because the Image is the legal property of The Society for the Distribution of Wisdom, and cannot be destroyed without their consent.”
 
“What kind of a concern is this Society for the Distribution of Wisdom?” asked the judge.
 
“It is one of the queerest concerns I ever saw,” replied Pancho. “It consists of people who are seeking after something they do not know, and in the existence of which they do not believe.”
 
“What kind of wisdom do they distribute?” inquired Snivelinsky.
 
Pancho shrugged his shoulders. “Their wisdom,” he said, “appears to me as much like the wisdom of other people, as the egg of a fowl is like the egg of a chicken. They believe one theory to-day, and another to-morrow.”
 
“What do they teach?”
 
“They pretend to teach nothing,” said Pancho. “Nevertheless each of its representative members teaches whatever he pleases or what he may imagine to be true,<ref name="v5-p492-n1">Just as “Pancho,” one of such “representative members” does. – [{{Style S-Small capitals|Ed.}}]</ref> and they do that in a very boisterous manner; hurling epithets against every one who dares to disbelieve or contradict their opinions.”<ref name="v5-p492-n2">In this ''untheosophical'' work, no one helps them more zealously than “Pancho.” – [{{Style S-Small capitals|Ed.}}]</ref>
 
“Oh!” exclaimed the judge, “is it there that the statue acquired its bad habits? But what are the principles of that Society?”
 
“The most admirable ones – on paper,” answered Pancho. “In theory they proclaim universal love and fraternity; but in their practice they fight with each other like cats and dogs.”
 
“What are their objects?”
 
“Judging from my own observation, their objects are to desecrate and vulgarize the ideal; to drag spiritual truth before the judgment-seat of the fool, and to sacrifice everything for the vain glorification of self.”
 
Snivelinsky seemed to pay little attention to this explanation. His mind was fully absorbed in the contemplation of the appetite of his porker. After a while he said –
 
“What seems to me most remarkable is, that ever since I left Italy, the statue has been continually increasing in weight. I carried it with me in a box, and on every station where it was weighed, it weighed much more.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=493}}
 
“This may be explained,” answered Pancho, “by the difference in the mental atmospheres of the countries through which you were travelling. The more gross and material the thoughts of a people, the more they will find expressions in gross and material forms.”
 
After breakfast Pancho and the judge went upstairs into a garret, where the Talking Image was already laid out upon a table, preparatory to being dissected. It was evidently of a denser and more material substance than when Pancho had seen it at Urur. Upon its forehead rested a scowl; otherwise its features were perfectly tranquil, as if it did not care about being vivisected, or knew nothing about the terrible fate that awaited it.
 
For a while Pancho stood still, regarding the Image and thinking of the doctors who were soon to arrive to make an end to its constitution, when he heard a rumbling noise, and then a voice as if coming from the interior of the Image spoke and said –
 
{{Style P-Poem|poem=“A single doctor like a sculler plies;
The patient lingers and at last he dies.
But two physicians, like a pair of oars,
Waft him with swiftness to the Stygian shores.”}}
 
“Do you hear it?” exclaimed the judge. “It reviles and denounces everything and everybody. No profession, no age, no sex, no social condition or religion is safe from its vilifications. It denounces everything, even denunciation itself.”
 
“These verses,” answered Pancho, “are not its own composition. I remember having read them somewhere many years ago. It seems that they were stored up in some corner of my memory and have now been reflected upon the Image.”
 
“After all,” said the judge, “these verses contain some truth. There is no doubt that the doctors have killed my younger brother, and that he would be alive to-day if he had never followed their advice. If it interests you, I will tell you how it happened.”
 
Pancho consented, and the judge began as follows: –
 
“My brother was a strong and healthy man like myself, and of a very robust constitution. He was never afraid of anything and there was nothing that did him any harm. He feared neither heat nor cold, neither sunshine nor rain, nor draughts of air; nor was he ever afraid that anybody would poison him, or that the cook would boil or stew something that he could not digest. But one unfortunate day – cursed be its memory! – my poor brother made the acquaintance of a doctor. It was a doctor of Hygienics, one of those that give no medicine, and are not generally supposed to belong to a dangerous class. However, soon after my brother had made that unfortunate acquaintance, he began to be somewhat careful about his diet and food and the state of the weather, and lots of other nonsensical things. Formerly he could have lived, according to the best of my knowledge, on pebble stones and ground glass; but now he began to criticise his grub and found always fault with the cook. There was one thing after another he had to quit, because the doctor said it might not agree with his stomach or that it might be adulterated and what not. He could not eat any more meat, because he had a list of about fifty of the most terrible diseases {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=494}}that come from eating meat. He could drink no more beer or wine, nor coffee nor tea, and when he tried chocolate, the doctor frightened him away even from that, by telling him about verdigris and cinnabar, with which it might be adulterated.”
 
“Surely he could have eaten bread?” said Pancho.
 
“Anything made out of flour,” replied the judge, “was out of the question; because flour is adulterated with gypsum, alum, jalap, blue vitriol, quartz, chalk, white lead, clay, sand, borax and other poisons of a deadly kind.”
 
“Vegetables?” suggested Pancho.
 
“How could he have lived on vegetables?” cried the judge. “To say nothing about their being covered with verdigris and pickled with sulphuric acid, one half of the doctors he consulted told him that it was unnatural and unhealthy to eat cooked vegetables; while the other half told him that there could be nothing more pernicious to one’s health than to eat them raw? Moreover my brother did not like vegetables without salt or pepper, or a speck of vinegar; and the doctor said that salt and vinegar were the worst kitchen poisons that were ever invented. As to pepper, he would not hear of it; because he said that it was nearly as bad as tobacco.”
 
“How about milk?” asked Pancho.
 
“Milk!” sobbed the judge, overcome by emotions awakened by the memory of his brother. “Would you have my poor brother poisoned with chalk-water and rotten calfs’ brains?”
 
“Butter?” exclaimed Pancho.
 
“Oleo-margarine,” sighed Mr. Snivelinsky.
 
“Sugar?”
 
“Sand, ground glass, white lead,” groaned the judge.
 
“But he must have had something to eat.”
 
“I tell you there was nothing for him that was not adulterated or might have been so. Moreover he began to be afraid of everything, and not without reason; for everything did him harm. He took to living on fruits; but he was always afraid that they would give him the colic; and sure enough they did give him the colic. So he had to quit even that.”
 
“And what became of him?” asked Pancho.
 
“He died out of fear that he could not live any longer, and the doctor said that if he had only begun to diet himself sooner, he might have become all right.”
 
Overcome by these sad recollections the judge wiped his nose with his handkerchief.
 
“His was a lingering death,” he continued. “For a long time he was sick; actually starving to death. He suffered much; but at last we took pity on him and called in another doctor in consultation, and he gave him something to quiet him. It quieted him so much that we had to bury him three days afterwards.”
 
“Comfort yourself,” said Pancho. “In less than three hundred years from now, the medical profession as a whole will have discovered that man is a product of will and thought, and that there can be no other rational system of medicine for good or evil, than by acting upon his will and imagination. There is no other physician than ''Faith.'' Your brother ought to have dismissed {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=495}}his doctor and made a voyage, so as to get a change of surroundings and to divert his mind from his gloomy thoughts.”
 
“Made a voyage!” ironically exclaimed the judge. “How could he have avoided stopping at hotels?”
 
“But why should he not have stopped at hotels?” asked Pancho surprised.
 
“It seems,” answered the judge, “that you are not up to the latest discoveries in medicine. You do not seem to know that a person may catch consumption by staying in a room which has once been inhabited by a consumptive person. Have you never heard of bacillæ and microbes? Where will you go to escape them?”
 
A rap at the door interrupted the conversation; a servant entered, handing to the judge a card, upon which was printed –
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=<div style="border:1px solid; padding:1em; text-align:center;">{{Style S-Small capitals|Dr. C. A. Lomel,}}<br><br>Professor of Medicine.</div>}}
 
“Death approaches,” said the judge.
 
“The other gentlemen are waiting below,” said the servant.
 
“Fear not,” said the judge to Pancho. “No harm shall befall the Image. For once it spoke the truth and the verses have saved its life. Remain until I return. If they are not willing to go, I shall use my authority.”
 
So saying the judge shook his fist and descended the stairs, where he found the medical practitioners already waiting. They were very much displeased when they heard that the legal owner of the Image had been found and that the statue could not be dissected. Dr. Lomel especially was very much incensed. He had brought with him a large boxful of knives, saws, chisels, gags, syringes, and other anatomical instruments.
 
“What does this new nonsense mean?” he exclaimed frantically. “It seems that Herr von Snivelinsky is determined to continue in the sleight-of-hand business and does not wish his tricks to be exposed.”
 
“A nice kind of a business we have done this morning,” sarcastically said another. “We have lost our valuable time and our travelling expenses.”
 
“I shall remunerate you for your trouble,” answered the judge; “but the statue cannot be dissected without the consent of the owner. Moreover it is a living thing and cannot bear vivisection.”
 
At this declaration there rose a general murmur among the doctors.
 
“Living or not living,” they said, “if there is something remarkable about it, it ought to be sacrificed to science.”
 
“It reflects the thoughts of other people,” said the judge.
 
This statement was received with uproarious laughter and cries of “Nonsense!”
 
“You are sick without knowing it, and should go through a regular course of treatment,” said one of the doctors, addressing the judge.
 
“Thoughts, my friend,” said another, tapping Mr. Snivelinsky condescendingly upon the shoulder, “are four dimensional dynamides and cannot be reflected.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=496}}
 
“I move,” said a third, “that a committee be appointed for a ''de lunatico inquirendo.''”
 
“I move,” retorted Mr. Snivelinsky, “that you make yourselves scarce at your earliest convenience, and if you do not understand this. plain language, I shall use an ''argumentum ad hominem.'' The Image does not require your services. It has had a distemper: but this morning a stranger has arrived and brought a remedy, and it is now decidedly better.”
 
“What! Who is that fellow,” roared out Dr. Lomel, “who dares to practise medicine in this country? Has he any certificates to entitle him to cure people? You, Mr. Snivelinsky, are a judge. You ought to see that the laws of this country are not infringed upon without punishment, and the health of the community endangered by a foreign quack.”
 
“Such a recovery,” said another doctor, “is entirely illegitimate, irrational, and contrary to the interests of science.”
 
“I wish we had come sooner,” groaned one of his colleagues.
 
“When will the dissection begin?” asked another who was hard of hearing, and who had not understood the conversation.
 
“There will be no dissection, sir,” shouted Dr. Calomel into his ear. “The patient has recovered.”
 
“Oh!” exclaimed the hard-hearing doctor. “Such a thing has never happened to me in my life.”
 
It was with great difficulty that the doctors were made to retire. Snivelinsky settled their bills, and as he did not have enough cash in the house, they took away hams and pickled pork, an old clock, a coat, and a family Bible – not however, without the consent of the judge, who was glad to get rid of them at any cost. As they left, they cast wistful glances up to the garret which contained the Talking Image.
 
During this time Pancho remained alone with the Image, thinking of the medical superstitions of our days and how impossible it is to eradicate them at once. He saw that there is no ''vacuum'' in nature, neither in the physical world nor in the world of mind, and that ideas are indestructible and cannot be rooted out, but must be displaced by other ideas. He knew that the vaunted medical agnosticism of our times is not much better than the destructive science of the past, but that it would serve as a stepping-stone to a better and more rational system – one that would cure the will and the mind, instead of that false system which merely seeks to suppress the external manifestation of internal causes.
 
He was disturbed in his meditations by a voice coming from the Image, which said,
 
“Cursed be everyone who does not blow in our horn! There are several kinds of wisdom; one that comes from the East and another that comes from the West, but that which comes from the East is the best, and must be accepted.”
 
“Ungrateful wretch!” exclaimed Pancho. “Is this your gratitude for my saving your life, that you now again try to put poison into my ear? There is only one wisdom, because there is only one truth; and it comes neither from the East nor from the West, but from the attainment of self-knowledge.”
 
{{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=497}}
 
While Pancho was speaking, the rosy light which he had once perceived at the shrine at Urur, appeared again in the room, and a golden flame floated about the head of the Image. A struggle between light and darkness seemed to take place within the body of the statue, but the light became victorious, for the flame became absorbed by the body of the Image, and a great change took place in the latter. The previously lifeless eyes became lit up by the light of intelligence, a smile played around its lips, the Image began to breathe and rose from the table.
 
“''There is only one truth,''” it said solemnly, “and this is the magic word which, as you have pronounced it, has broken the spell that kept me enchained in matter. Listen, O mortal! You have in vain attempted to find perfection in this world of illusion. You have had occasion to fully convince yourself that there is not a single department in our present civilization in which you will not find the vilest deception and frauds, gross ignorance and wilful imposture. Science and religion, medicine and philosophy, politics and trade, love and marriage, and everything that you may name, not excepting The Society for the Distribution of Wisdom, is full of humbug and ignorance. Even a humbug itself is a lie, because it is not all humbug, but contains a spark of truth. Crime is a lie, because it is the result of ignorance, and therefore not thoroughly criminal. Do you not know the reason why God has created the world?”
 
“Surely,” answered Pancho, “He did it for no other purpose than to have it carried off by the devil!”
 
“Lo!” said the image, “I will tell you where you can find the key to the understanding of the mystery; but the understanding I cannot give. The universal panacea, the cure of all evils of body and soul, is MERCURY, the symbol of wisdom. It must be distilled in the water of thought, and purified by the fire of Divine Love, and it will then cure ignorance, the mother of all ills that afflict mankind. It is the true Elixir of Life; but it is only accessible to the favourites of God; to those that have been well circumcised and cut entirely loose from all the bondage of matter. Think not that you can find anything without blemish in a world where evil is as omnipresent as good. There is no good without evil, neither can you destroy evil without at the same time destroying the good contained therein. Therefore it is said that we must let the wheat and the tares grow together until the day of the harvest.”
 
“And will not the tares destroy the wheat if they are permitted to grow?” asked Pancho.
 
“Have you so little faith in the superior power of good,” said the Image, “that you cannot see that it is greater than evil? Does not the most delicious fruit grow upon the richest manure? There is a higher love than the attraction of the senses; there is a higher knowledge than that of the reasoning intellect. Divine Wisdom is higher than human philosophy, and the justice of the Supreme more powerful than man-made law.”
 
“How can we make mankind realize the sublimity of Divine Truth?” inquired Pancho.
 
The answer was:
 
“No man can teach another the truth if the truth does not manifest itself in and through him. Do not follow those that in a loud voice claim to be able to show you the truth, but seek for the truth itself. You cannot expose the {{Page aside in Lucifer|v=5|n=30|p=498}}truth, but you can expose ignorance. Let the truth be hidden from the eyes of the fool, but put the fool upon a pedestal, so that others may recognize in him their own folly.”
 
“What about the Mysterious Brotherhood?” asked Pancho.
 
He received no answer. Before his eyes a great transformation took place. Brighter and brighter shone the light in the interior of the Image and the statue grew more and more ethereal and transparent. It was as if the whole substance of its body had become changed into a cloud of living light, through which the objects in other parts of the room could be seen. The whole form was in a state of harmonious vibration, trembling and swaying to and fro like a gossamer cloud in the morning breeze. At last even the cloud-like appearance was gone; there was nothing of a material character left; the Image had become all soul – a streak of supernatural glory – which slowly faded away.
 
{{Style P-Separator custom}}
 
The story of the Talking Image is finished. What would be the use of continuing it? What does it matter what became of Pancho? He has served us as a dummy, to hang upon him the events of our story. Now we shall need him no longer. There is nothing immortal but God.
 
But for the gratification of the curious, who wish to know still more, we will say that the body of Conchita was buried, while her spirit went to the Kingdom of joy, and soon after her death, Pancho received a letter from Mr. Malaban, which contained the following:
 
{{Style P-Quote|1=“There is nothing higher than truth! – Everybody is well except Madame Corneille. The Hierophant has returned after a successful hunt for the subterranean hole through which he went and visited Kakodumbola, the city of the Adepts. After him went Mr. Green, who has now been initiated by Krashibashi and become an Adept. Mrs. Honeycomb has run away with a black magician. I hope that you are still loyal to Urur and faithful to Captain Bumpkins. Many strange things have happened here recently. What will interest you most is, that the Talking Image was found one day in its old place in the shrine; but where it has been so long, and how it happened to return – this we are not permitted to tell.}}
 
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|1=Franz Hartmann, M.D., F.T.S.}}
 
<center>{{Style S-Small capitals|The End.}}</center>


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